


Hospital Detour

by HathorAroha



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: AU of the alternate timeline, Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21766951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HathorAroha/pseuds/HathorAroha
Summary: The only reason Max is visiting the hospital where a now quadriplegic Chloe is residing is thanks to her mother's work's conference, located in a time and place that was convenient for them to swing by the hospital. Max would rather have partied and handed out pot brownies than come all the way down here just for her parents' conference, but her parents insisted on the visit, and so Max has no choice but to be forced to confront her childhood friend's new disability, and the fear that things will be too awkward and different. To her relief, their old friendship is quickly rekindled despite an awkward relighting.A slight AU of the alternate timeline in Life is Strange.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41





	1. Truth

Max leaned her head against the car window in the backseat, staring out at the passing scenery, ignoring her parents’ bantering as they sped along the road to the hospital where Chloe was still residing, even several weeks past her horrific car accident. 

_I’m so uncomfortable right now._ _She’s disabled, and how the hell am I supposed to act around disabled people? And of course my parents decided I should come along with them this weekend, just because we’ll happen to pass the hospital where Chloe is._

She’d had a _party_ this weekend, and had promised to bring along some pot brownies for the shing-ding, but of course that wasn’t happening now. She’d had to quickly dash her brownies in a rubbish bin outside some old lady’s house. At least that way she wouldn’t get busted by her parents if they nosied through her stuff. The old lady was on her own, though.

_It’s not that I don’t want to see Chloe, it’s just, how the fuck am I supposed to talk to her?_

What do you say to someone who’s been recently completely paralysed from the neck down? What was she going to say to her? What _could_ she say? 

_“Oh hi, Chloe, I hope you’re feeling better and able to get back to normal life soon.. We should totally go sneak into a concert reserved for people eighteen years and over. To the moshpit, amirite?”_

Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. And what should she say about her own life? 

_“Oh yeah, by the way, I was able to take a fun skinny dip the other day. Was drunk as hell though. Stepped on a dead jellyfish. Pretty sure my whole body was on fire, it was that fucking painful.”_

Or: 

_“Oh man, I am so exhausted from all the dancing last night. My legs are sore, but man, my whole body is still electrified from the concert. You should try it sometime. Raves are amazing, they get my whole body movin’!”_

Yeah sure, remind Chloe that she can’t move at all, let alone feel anything in her body. 

_Even I’m not that kind of bitch._

“Mom.” 

Vanessa Caulfield shot her a glance through the rear view mirror. “Yes?” 

“What the hell am I supposed to say to Chloe?” 

“Just be yourself, Maxine.” 

Max rolled her eyes with a groan. “Ugh. So helpful.” 

“We are doing you a favour taking you with us to see Chloe. My conference had the perfect timing.” 

“Yeah. You told me that before.” 

“Just say you’re glad she’s with us, and I really do hope you _did_ send her a letter?” 

A shrug. “Just a little one.” 

“We sent her a postcard the other day. Her parents called us and were very appreciative of the gesture. Chloe is a sweet girl. Just because she’s disabled now doesn’t mean she’s not Chloe anymore, do you understand?” 

“She can’t be very Chloe if she’s completely paralysed.” 

“Of course she is. She’s an angel.” 

“Sure, mom.” 

“You will be nice, Maxine. She’s still your friend, isn’t she?’ 

_I guess so, if sending her a quick email or letter on the rare occasion I remember counts as being friends with someone._

“Yeah. Totally.” 

“I know you’re uncomfortable about seeing her after her accident,” Max’s father, Ryan, added, “But she will appreciate your visit. Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for people to lose all their friends after trauma that leaves them severely disabled.” 

_No shit, dad. People are assholes._

“Sure, dad.” 

“I’m serious, Maxine. She’s going to need all the friends she has left.” 

Vanessa added, “Her parents mentioned over the phone that Chloe’s friend, Megan, visited her a few days after the accident and never came back, except for a postcard.”

“Well, a postcard is _something_ , at least.” 

“A visit is far more treasured, I would imagine, sweetheart.” 

_Sure, but if that visit is full of awkward silence, you may as well just never have visited at all._

Awkward silence. That’s what she was afraid of. If she had it her way, she’d be more than happy to have continued staying in Seattle, never visiting Chloe, taking the easy way out of having to see her at all. At least, with letters and photos of road-trip selfies she didn’t have to see her for reals in front of her. She wouldn’t have to fully confront the reality of Chloe’s disability, knowing she would never be able to do anything, no matter how very basic, for herself ever again. It was the easy way out, the chickenshit way out, to just stick to communicating via the written word with Chloe. If it made her a sucky, rubbish, crap friend, then so be it. She was a sucky, rubbish, crap friend. It seemed her parents thought so, or at least were _trying_ to make her feel so. Whatever worked for them. 

_No way will they guilt trip me about Chloe._

“Slow down, dear,” Vanessa urged her husband, “The hospital’s on the left, straight down that street.” 

“On it. We’re going to see Chloe very soon, Max.” 

_Welp. Guess this is it. Time to be awkward as fuck._

Max hated hospitals; they struck her as sensory overload at the best of times, with harsh white lighting, harsh white walls, harsh beeping noises from behind closed ward doors, and shrill ringing of the reception’s phone. She hated seeing sick people waiting for their already half-hour late appointment, the dark worry of mothers holding on to coughing, feverish, terrified kids, and the antiseptic smell that permeated absolutely _everything_. It made her want to gag, just imagining all the blood, antiseptic, needles, and tubes sticking out of patients bedridden and at the mercy of the nurses and doctors. Already bad enough for those patients with full use of their limbs. 

_And their food is gross. So...ugh._

Max had to hand it to the airplane industry: even their food was miles better than the most elegant fare hospitals had to offer. She couldn’t imagine Chloe having had to endure several weeks’ worth of gross hospital food in a row. 

_Damn. Should’ve brought something along. Maybe one of my pot brownies? Okay, maybe not. I’d be banned from hospitals everywhere, probably._

“Okay, there’s the receptionist,” Vanessa pointed at the reception right before them, “Let’s ask them where Chloe’s ward is, shall we, Maxine?” 

_There’s no backing out of this now, is there?_

“Sure, mom.” 

It’s not that she didn’t want to see Chloe, like ever, but it... _was_ like she didn’t want to see her at all. Not completely paralysed, that is. For as long as Max could remember, Chloe was all activity, all energy, all movement all the time. There was no slowing down with her, and the more the day wore on, the more energy she seemed to have, as though she were photosynthesising it straight from the sun like a plant. Max felt exhausted just _thinking_ about how hyperactive Chloe could be. And now--

 _Completely_ still. Not able to move. Not able to dance in her boots on her own bed, swing high on the swings, climb as far up as she could into a tree, run along the beach with the wind in her long blonde hair, help her parents whip up some delicious pancakes at the kitchen bench, tear open her birthday presents with abandon, nor dive into the sea on a hot summer’s day just to swim up behind Max and take her down with her under the waves. 

It made Max’s breath hitch _hard_ in her chest to even dwell on the idea of all that energy in Chloe, always so boundless and infectious, now locked away forever in her paralysed body. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” her father queried, a hand on her shoulder. 

_Keep it together. Let’s not embarrass ourselves, especially not here. Not in front of the receptionist, and especially_ not _in front of mom and dad._

“Just a little hiccup, I think,” Max lied, well aware how lame it sounded. “I’m fine.” 

Dad didn’t look like he believed her in the least, and nor did her mom, but--much to Max’s relief--they let it go, at least for now. 

Once the receptionist gave them the directions to Chloe’s ward, they headed on their way, Max trailing slightly behind her parents, pretending to the world that she was _so_ not with them. 

_Wonder how Chloe is taking all of this? God. I’m gonna embarrass myself. I feel so fucking weird around disabled folks. How the fuck am I going to greet her? Maybe I’ll just let mom and dad do the talking. That’s the safest thing. I won’t have to open my mouth at all. Here goes nothing…_

Part of her hoped they would never find Chloe’s ward, that they’d keep going down endless hallways and through doors leading into another corridor, leading them to give up and get back on the road. That way she didn’t have to face Chloe in such a state, and didn’t have to worry about having something to say. 

_Weird. I’m never shy about anything. And now I am. What the fuck is up with my brain pulling a number on me like that?_

“Ah, there it is!” Ryan clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder, steering her ahead of him until they stopped in front of the closed ward doors. Max stared at it, throat suddenly dry. Hours ago, miles and miles of road separated her from Chloe, and now only a door stood in her way. 

_Deep breath, Max. It’s only Chloe, right? Quadriplegic, but still Chloe._

“Ready?” Vanessa murmured near her. “Maxine? Maxine, are you going to knock or what?” 

_Great. They want_ me _to knock, when they have perfectly functioning hands themselves._

Resisting an eye roll, Max raised a fist and knocked, firmer and louder than she’d meant to, on the door, stepping back to wait for any response. 

_Don’t respond. Don’t open the door. Don’t say anything. Be asleep, have no visitors, have no-one--_

The door opened, revealing Joyce Price, looking wearier than usual, with bags under her eyes, but her face broke out into a glad smile all the same.. 

_Dammit._

“Maxine!” Joyce drew Maxine in to a tight hug, Max catching a glimpse of Chloe hooked up to several machines, staring up at the ceiling, unnaturally still, a breathing tube inserted into her nose. Max’s heart dropped at the sight of her old friend so still and hooked up to all the things, eyes fixed on the ceiling.. 

_Shit._

Joyce finally let go of her, hands dropping away from Max’s shoulders, turning to nod in greeting to Max’s parents. 

“Chloe was very grateful for your postcard, as were we.” 

“Oh yes, we do hope she is feeling better,” Vanessa said, wringing her hands, “How _is_ your daughter?” 

“She’s...she’s alive,” Joyce said after a long hesitation, “She’s still with us.” 

“Is she in a stable condition?” Ryan asked in a low voice, eyes flicking over Joyce’s shoulder to look at Chloe. 

“Thankfully, she is. My husband is at work at the moment, but will be back to see Chloe later.” 

It was at this point Chloe spoke up from the bed behind them. “You know I can hear all of you?” 

Joyce touched a hand to Max’s shoulder, gently nudging her forward in Chloe’s direction. “Go on, Chloe has been hoping so hard to see you here. She hasn’t had many visitors other than William and me.” She turned to address Max’s parents. “I haven’t had lunch yet, will you join me, so we can let the girls reunite?” 

_Great, I’m going to be left on my own in this. Thanks._

“Why of course,” Vanessa said, ‘Max, we’ll be back soon, okay?” 

Max took a deep breath, eyes looking anywhere but at Chloe. “Sure, go ahead and have lunch. Bring me back a burrito or something.” 

“We’ll do our best, sweetie,” her dad nodded at Chloe, “Glad to see you’re doing okay, Chloe.” 

Max turned and watched her parents and Joyce leave the ward, closing the door quietly behind them. She was still staring at the door when Chloe spoke from the bed, voice hoarse and thick with fatigue. 

“Max?” 

_Oh damn. I...I have to talk to her don’t I? What the fuck should I say?_

She didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to see her childhood friend looking like...that. This was not the Chloe she remembered, running around in her favourite boots, skating outside _and_ inside the house (despite her parents’ scolding), making up new moves to her favourite songs, and racing Max up and down the lighthouse stairs. 

“You look amazing from the back, but would be nice to see your face instead.” 

_Here goes nothing, Max._

Taking a deep breath, Max turned around to face the bed, taking in how Chloe lay so limp and still under the starchy white blanket, hooked up to the IV drip, the heart monitor, and god only knew what else. Her blue eyes looked huge in her white face, her lips parched and dry, dark smudges under her eyes. Max searched her face for any sign of the cheerful Chloe she used to know, but there was nothing but fatigue and sadness. She couldn’t even crack a smile at the sight of Max. 

“Take a seat,” Chloe invited, her voice dull. 

_I can’t do this. I’ve never talked to someone this disabled before. What the hell do I say?_

“Uh...sure.” 

Max pulled over a wooden chair, sitting down a couple feet away from Chloe’s bed. She looked down, scuffing her feet on the floor, fingers drumming a beat on her knees. Who’d have thought one of the most popular kids in her school could be silenced so soundly like this? 

_Aaand, there’s the awkward silence. Called it._

“Sooo, Max “awkward silence” Caulfield, nice to see you around.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Max bit her lip, lifted her head up to meet Chloe’s eyes, seeing how glazed over they were from all the medication and malaise. “How’re you really doing?” 

“Shitty. Still completely paralysed from the neck down. You?” 

“Me? I’m...uncomfortable right now.” 

_Wow, Max. Wow. You don’t just say that out loud. Come on, even_ you _know this!_

“I mean, not because--” 

“Don’t bother. It’s because I’m disabled. Don’t blame you at all. I’d be the same myself.” 

“I have no clue what to say, okay? I haven’t had a friend disabled like this before.” 

“Anything but platitudes. Platitudes won’t unbreak my neck.” 

_Got it. Anything. Just--omigod, Max, just say something!_

Maybe she should’ve had one of her secret magic brownies beforehand. Sure would’ve helped her. 

Max studied the side-tables on either side of Chloe’s bed, noting the get well cards, a couple of fluffy bears, a plush otter, and a snow globe with a doe inside--she immediately recognised it from Chloe’s room. Her parents must have brought it here for her to look at. 

“You’ve got a lot of cards.” 

“Yeah. Everyone says pretty much the same thing though. You know, get well soon, I’m sorry about what happened, and thoughts and prayers.” 

“People obviously care about you.” 

“All my friends visited me once and never come back. My parents have been here every day, as much as their work allows them to anyway.” 

“Maybe everyone else has been busy?” 

“If by busy, you mean never talking to me again, then sure, Max. They’ve been busy.” 

A beat of silence, Max desperately searching for anything else to say. 

_So weird for Chloe to be so quiet._

What she’d give right now for Chloe to be chatting so much at her just for a chance to tell her to zip it already before she uses up all the words in the English language. Or maybe she’d let her talk both her ears off, just for the memory and reminder of the old Chloe, who once skated downstairs on her skateboard and broke a wrist, and still refused to admit Max had been right to caution her against such recklessness. What she would’ve given to hear the old Chloe again, the Chloe who had gone through a massive space phase, followed by a dinosaur phase, neither of which Max had, unlike practically every other kid in America. 

_Well, Maxine? You’re gonna have to be the chatty one now. Just pretend it’s school._

Hah. Right. School. Where “disability accessibility” wasn’t anywhere in their vocabulary. 

“Those are...very fluffy bears and I like the otter,” Max offered a smile, “Otters are adorable.” 

“Like you. You’ve always been my otter in my water.” 

“Uh...thanks, I think? I see your parents brought the snow doe in here for you.” 

“My favourite.” 

“It’s pretty.” 

Another bout of silence, but Max was sure she could feel a little shift away from the dumb awkward silence to something perhaps a little more like...normal, she guessed. Something like the old days, though now it would never ever be quite like the “old days” ever again. Not with Chloe paralysed and bedridden. 

“Who brought in the bears? Do you like them?” 

“They’re...nice, I guess. Would’ve been nice to have a glowy punk bear.” 

_I guess I know what to get Chloe for Christmas or a birthday then._

“What about your shark?” 

“The one you tried to throw away?” 

“Oh god, you’re never going to let that go are you?” 

“Never.” 

Max allowed a quiet, cautious laugh. “I deserve it.” 

“You do. Sharks bite, and so do I.” 

“Can confirm. Still have the scar.”

“Shark wasn’t feeling swimmingly. Stayed home unfortunately.” 

“Bet the otter’s relieved about that.” A beat of silence. “So...any other gifts from people?” 

Chloe pulled a face. “Someone brought in a teletubby plush once. I demanded dad to give it to a kid who really needs it.” 

“What? Someone _really_ gave you a teletubby?” 

Chloe rolled her eyes, staring back up at the ceiling.

Max gave a low whistle of disbelief. “I’m sure the kid was delighted to have a free teletubby. But... _wow._ ”

_Jesus. Is that how people really act around disabled people?_

“You won’t be getting any teletubbies or purple dinos from me, just in case you were worried.” 

“Do that and I’ll punt you back to dinosaur doomsday. Somehow. I’ll find a way.” 

_There’s the old Chloe._

“Has there...been much improvement? Did they catch the person who ran into your car?” 

A deep sigh from Chloe. 

“Nothing.” 

Silence. Awkward fucking silence again. 

“Nothing, as in…?” 

“Hit and run.” 

“ _Shit._ ” 

“Psycho with enough cash to bail him out.” 

“That’s…” Max blew out a breath, “What the hell?” 

“No kidding. He blamed me. I wasn’t the one drinking and driving.” 

“The fuck? He blamed _you_?” 

“Because I’m a teenager, and teens are always drinking and driving, amirite.” 

“I can’t see you drinking at all, Chloe.” 

“Because I’m still underage, Max, that’s why.” 

“Never stopped me.” 

Was that a twitch at the corner of Chloe’s lips? “Rebel.” 

“I’ve yet to go full punk. As if I would ever.” 

“Punk Maxine Caulfield. That would be the day.” 

Max grinned, already feeling a lot more relaxed than before. “With a purple and red Mohawk and tongue, nose, _and_ eyebrow piercings. All the way.” 

Chloe stared at Max for what felt like forever, eyes flickering over her face and hair before turning her head away with the softest of laughs. 

_I made her laugh. I actually cheered her up? Guess mom was right as usual. Not gonna thank her though, no way. I have my dignity._

“Sorry Max… but the image…” 

“Red and purple Mohawk. Tongue piercing. Arm length tattoos. Leather jacket. _Faux_ leather, of course. I’m not about animal cruelty.” 

The soft huffing laughter died away, Chloe’s head stilling on the pillow, so motionless Max thought she might have fallen asleep, before there was a little sigh, quickly stifled, and she turned her head back to face the ceiling. 

“Guess that surprise visit to Seattle’s not going to happen, Max.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Chloe turned her head to gaze at Max again, eyes full of regret. “For your eighteenth. I--I was planning--” she cut off her sentence, eyes flicking away from Max, to stare down at the bedsheet tucked around her. “I had planned to surprise you with a visit in my car on your eighteenth. But...that’s never going to happen. It’s not fair, Max.” 

_Shit. She’s sad again._

Max stood up, moving to stand next to the bed, placing a hand on Chloe’s shoulder, knowing full well the girl wouldn’t feel a thing. Still, surely the gesture counted enough, even if she couldn’t physically feel it. 

“It’s okay, Chloe, really. This just means I have to surprise you with a visit on your eighteenth, right? Or twenty-first?” 

“Not the same, Max. It’s not like you’ve never been to Arcadia Bay.” 

“Still…” 

“I had planned it all out, Max. It would’ve been a weekend road trip and everything. Visit a few tacky tourist traps. Check out the art and culture scene. Visit Portland and buy a tonne of books at Powell’s. That sort of thing. But not anymore.” 

“We could still make it happen, right? Somehow? My eighteenth’s still like two years away.” 

“Not like I’ll be walking again, even though the doctors have promised me there’s a chance I could get _some_ feeling back.” 

“Chloe! That would be amazing.” 

“I don’t believe a word of it, Max.” 

“Why?” 

“What makes you think they’re telling the truth?” 

“Uh…because they’re doctors?” 

“Doctors have been wrong before.” 

“Even so, getting back _some_ feeling is better than nothing, right? And you’re healthy, you look after yourself and eat all the right things, right? You totally got this, Chloe, you’ll heal.” 

“I don’t think so. How can I live like this?” 

_Has she even heard of Stephen Hawking?_

“Hey, if Stephen Hawking can do all that science while unable to move, there’s no reason _you_ can’t. You’ve...you’ve heard of him, right?” 

Chloe gave her a narrow look. “Duh. Everyone has.” 

“Then you know how fucking awesome he is, even if I don’t understand any of his stuff.” 

“What he had isn’t the same.” 

“Still. I’m just saying, okay? And it’s not like you to just give up, Chloe. Shit, you’re literally the girl who told me not to let bullies see me cry, or they’ll win.” 

“Different time.” 

_Never thought I’d see the day I’d be giving_ Chloe _a pep talk. Guess there’s a first time for everything._

Max let her hand slide down Chloe’s arm as she crouched, now eye to eye with her. 

“I want to ask you something, okay?” 

“Starting to feel tired, Max, but sure. Shoot.” 

“If it were me in your place, and I told you I want to give up, what do you think you’d say?” 

“Max, no, I can’t do that. I _don’t_ want--”

“Just for a sec or two, alright?” 

“Why?” 

“What would _you_ say to me, if I wanted to give up because some asshole injured me in an accident?” 

“I’d tell you don’t, because…” Chloe’s eyes were definitely duller, glazing over with drowsiness, “Because that means he wins.” 

Max moved her hand to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind Chloe’s ear. “Now _that’s_ more like my Chloe. Take your own advice, nerd. Don’t give up, not yet, because if you do, that jerk has won by default.” 

“It’s going to be hard, Max.” 

“I’m not denying that. But you’ve always been a bold and determined person, and yeah, I always thought you talked _way_ too much at three in the morning, but, Chloe, it’s your boldness that’s inspired and stayed with me. And I know you still have that drive to make the most of what you can in you. We’ve--we’ve always been Max and Chloe, right?” 

“...right.” 

“And the number one rule of Captain Bluebeard was that a pirate never gives up--you may as well just walk the plank.” 

Chloe’s eyes had closed fully, but there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth, the hint of what might have been a smile. 

“ _And._ ” Max let the word hang in the air until Chloe pried open one eyelid to look at her. 

“And what?” 

Max wagged a finger at her, face deadly serious. “If I hear you decided to give up anyway, you will _not_ receive a VIP invitation to my first photography exhibition.” 

That did it. Chloe’s other eye popped open, and she eyed Max up and down. 

“You _wouldn’t_.” 

Max quirked an eyebrow. “Try me, Chloe Price. Just try.” 

They held the stare-down for several more seconds, before Chloe shook her head, eyes closing again. 

“Damn,” she breathed, voice no more than a sigh, “You’re hardcore, Max.” 

“ _So_ hardcore. _So_ punk. Just like you.” 

“You’ll...visit me again right? Soon?” 

“I’ll try, but I swear, I’ll keep in touch and I’ll send you photos of my funtimes.” 

“Oooh, funtimes, huh, Max? Will have to hide that from the ‘rents.”

“As in parties and road trips. You and your dirty mind.” 

“It’s the company I keep.” 

“I can’t promise I’ll visit you again in hospital, but I’ll do my best for you, okay? I’ll do anything for you.” 

A long pause, so deep in silence Max could hear the loud ticking of the clock in the ward interrupted by the steady beeps of the heart monitor and Chloe’s strained inhalations and exhalations through the breathing tube in her nose. Max was suddenly hyper-aware of footsteps hurrying up and down the corridor outside the door, the mumbles and raised voices of nurses and visitors and patients alike, and that goddamn shrill ringing of the phone at reception always going and going and going with no one ever answering.

Strange how a hospital could be so loud and silent in such chilling synchronicity. 

And then, there was Chloe’s voice a minute later, no louder than a whisper, heavy with a maturity far older than her seventeen years: 

“ _Anything_ , anything?” 

_What? What does she mean?_

There was something in Chloe’s tone that bothered Max, something serious, dark and heavy in its nature, too much for a fifteen-year-old girl to handle. 

_No. I’m just analysing way too hard. There’s nothing deeper to see here._

As long as Chloe kept fighting, as long as she was still a part of her world, Max could believe they would be okay. Even if Chloe ended up forever in a wheelchair, she’d still be with her, and damn right Max would wheel her past every single photo in her first ever exhibition when she finished high school. 

“Max? Promise, right? Promise you’d do _anything_ , anything for me.”

“Yes, Chloe, _anything,_ anything. I promise.”


	2. Dare (2011)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the remainder of the year, mad Max becomes more determined to live a more daring, adventurous life, the kind of life Chloe should have had, were this in a better universe, a better timeline. She may not go all out punk rock, but she does things she may never have done before. (This chapter covers the remainder of 2011, up to December. Features the origins of that Hawt Dog Man photo and plush that main!Max comes across in alt!Chloe's room.)

If there's one thing Maxine Caulfield is proud of, it’s her dedication to holding on to her promises and following through no matter what. When she walked out of the hospital, the image of Chloe hooked up to all sorts of machines and the IV drip burned in her head like midday sunlight, too bright, too intense, that she has to squint against it. It _still_ feels so unreal, even now, even despite having spent at least fifteen or twenty minutes seeing Chloe like...that. Her last words, unsettling in their unspoken implications, still stuck in the background of her otherwise unrelated thoughts chasing around her brain. Of course her parents noticed her unusual silence as they walked back to the car, but a glare from Max told them to stay silent. 

_Don't feel like talking about it right now. Need to process shit._

She wished she could kick that asshole's ass so hard he'd end up in orbit. How _dare_ he crash into Chloe's car, how _dare_ he be so callous and blame her just because she was a teenager! How _dare_ he be so unsympathetic, not sorry in the least for forever changing Chloe's life, leaving her unable to do a single thing for herself. Would she even be able to stay in school? Highly doubtful now. If only Max could get her hands on the asshole, because boy did he have it coming. 

_If I ever see him..._

Max glared out the window as they drove by the seaside, arms folded, her legs cramped up against the passenger seat in front of her, her mind coming up with a million different fantasies about what exactly she could do to whoever did this to Chloe. 

_I hope he'll never sleep well at night ever again._

Much as she wanted to keep staying pissed at the other driver, there was something about watching the sun sparkling off the water that helped calm her down. She watched surfers taking advantage of the unusually strong swell, wishing she were brave enough to ride the waves. 

_Chloe wanted to learn surfing one day._

There, Chloe was back in her thoughts again, even more present now with her than she had been in the hospital. 

_Maybe I should try, at least for her. Try everything. For Chloe._

And she thought she already had a pretty fun life, with the parties and "bedroom experiments" and weed. 

_But I can do so much more than that, right?_

Maybe she should, for Chloe. That might cheer her up a bit, seeing Max living life--

_What if it only makes her sadder? Surfing, tattoos, concerts, that's her life that she dreamed about, not mine, right?_

Where would the "real" Max end, and Chloe begin? 

_I'm definitely not getting tattoos. Too chicken._

The very idea of needles puncturing her arm or leg or wherever else on her body made her feel queasy at best; even now, the thought of needles tracing a new tattoo, no matter how small, into her flesh made her stomach wring like a flannel. 

_Dares...what did she dare me as a kid but I was too chickenshit?_

A flash of memory - winter-time, likely February, Max was eleven years old, and Chloe was teasing her about not wanting to at least walk barefoot into frigid swell. 

"I _quadruple-quintuple_ dare you!" Chloe had crowed, jumping up and down on the sand, eyes sparkling and smile ablaze. "It's just a little water! Just a little splish-splash!"

Another memory: Max was about nine or ten years old, and standing at the top step of the highest diving board over the adults' diving pool. She'd nearly toppled off in her fright, seeing how high up it really was, and clambered all the way back down. 

"So you're backing out of that dare?" 

"Sorry Chloe, but _no way_." 

"Fine, I'll dive. Watch me." 

Another memory: they had been at some nature outreach thing, and an educator was handing around a snake, letting all the kids near it, occasionally letting them touch it. There were little squeals of delight and high fives when some kid was brave enough to actually touch the critter. 

"Double dare you," Chloe had poked Max in the ribs, "Touch it." 

"Nope, nope, nope." 

_Ugh. Maybe I really was just a little bit chickenshit about everything then._

Maybe now she should do all the things Chloe had dared her to do, but Max had backed out with a hard _nope._

_Then again..._

It wouldn't be the same, doing all those dares without Chloe at her side, knowing somewhere in Arcadia Bay, the girl was bedridden and at the mercy of everyone be they familiar or stranger. She wouldn't be there to see Max finally do everything she had chickened out of; even if Max took a selfie at that very moment to show she actually did it, it wasn't ever going to be the same again. 

_If only I could rewind time._

If she could, imagine everything she could do with Chloe! She would dive the _hell_ off that adults' swimming pool diving board, charge like an enraged bull into winter-frigid swell, grab that goddamn snake from the educator and coil it around her neck like a scarf, and climb up to the topmost branches of the tallest tree she could find. 

_I'd change everything._

She'd make sure she never took those moments for granted ever, _ever_ again, when Chloe could still run free and dream of surfing the tallest waves Arcadia Bay had to offer. 

_I'd do it for you, Chloe._

Max could only hope that when she did them all, she would think of that young Chloe with her impish smile and fearlessness, able to do anything her heart desired and dreamed.

 _I won't do tongue piercings or tattoos, but I will try to live like you're still okay. Like you're still with me._

After all, they were still Max and Chloe, even when they were apart. They'd promised each other at least that much three years ago.

* * *

Back at school on Monday, despite Max's efforts to act like her old cheery self, her closest friends still noted a note of change in her, one that they jumped upon as soon as they were all seated together at their usual table in the cafeteria at school. 

"Dude," Fernando was the first to speak up, "You're acting so fucking strange. Is everything cool?" 

Max looked up from her bowl of limp, lukewarm fries. "Huh?" 

"Uh, hello? Something happen at the weekend?" Kristin piped in. 

"Oh! Yeah, the weekend." 

"Sucks you had to miss the party. Turns out vodka and hot chocolate is _the_ best combination." Fernando added. 

"Had to visit an old friend in hospital. Parents forced me to visit." 

"Sounds like you weren't that close if you felt 'forced' to go," Kristin commented. 

"Actually, I don't really want to talk about it." 

"Oh?" their other friend, Esther, intoned. "Why not?" 

"I don't know if you'd understand, because..." 

_Because we're exactly the kind of people who'd dismiss handicapped people._

"Because why?" Kristin asked. 

"She's..." 

"She's what? Dying? Contagious? Got turned into a werewolf?" 

_Chloe the werewolf pirate?_

Max pushed her fries away, no longer hungry, sick at the memory of Kristin and Fernando laughing at the one cerebral palsy kid's mother who was (rightfully) pissed at Kristin for parking in the handicapped spot without a permit. Long story short: the mother complained to the principal, and Kristin was given a stern telling-off in the principal's office, but nothing more than that, for her actions. Seeing her actions didn't have any real consequences for her, Kristin had shrugged it off as something too minor to think about again. 

"That was not cool." 

Esther tilted her head, staring in confusion at Max. "What's not cool?" 

_Oh. I said that aloud, didn't I? They’d make fun of me if I called them out anyway, so...better cover it up whatever way I can._

“Uh, nothing. I was thinking about the dude-bro who crashed into my friend in a hit and run.” 

“Holy shit,” Kristin breathed, grabbing her cup of water. “You cereal?” 

“Left her a quadriplegic.” 

“Uh...that’s the paralysis where it’s bottom half only, right?” Fernando asked. 

“No, full paralysis. Can’t feel or move anything below her neck.” 

Esther’s hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide in horror. “Holy. Fucking. No. Way.” 

“Holy fucking yes way.” 

“ _Gods._ See? This kind of shit is why I’m going into medicine. I want to help people like her.” 

“Better you than me,” Kristin commented, “I couldn’t stand being around sick people. How bad is she, Max?” 

Max, Fernando, and Esther all looked at Kristin with expressions ranging from “are you serious” to “did you just hear what she said?” 

“Oh, right, you just said that, didn’t you? My bad. Quadriplegic. That stinks.” 

“Way worse for her,” Max conceded, “Can’t imagine waking up and finding you can’t move or feel a thing.” 

“What’s her name, by the way?” Fernando asked. “And how long have you known her?” 

“Chloe. We were childhood friends. Think I was about five or six when I first met her.” 

“How was it, talking to her?” Esther asked as she flipped through her diary to check her schedule for the day. 

“So uncomfortable.” 

“Don’t blame you,” Kristin agreed, “I’m so like not great with crippled people.” 

Esther slammed her diary shut, glaring at Kristin. “Do not ever say that word again.” 

“Uh...what?” 

“That c-word. Check your privilege.” 

Kristin and Max both rolled their eyes. 

_Here we go again._

“It’s outmoded, it’s--”

“Hey, I can say whatever the hell I like.” 

“She’s right,” Max jumped to her friend’s defence, “It’s just another synonym for…” 

Esther huffed. “Oh never mind. Educate yourself on why it’s a shit word, I’m not Google.” She shoved her diary back into her satchel with a little sniff. “Sometimes I wonder why I hang out with y’all.” 

“Because you come up with creative ways to mix drinks, that’s why,” Kristin said, “And you’re legit the mom friend of our group. Make sure we don’t drown in our spew when we drink ourselves unconscious.” 

“Or make sure we don’t get tempted by heroin or crack,” Fernando added. “Weed’s the limit.” 

“Very funny,” muttered Esther, “Anyway, so Chloe.” 

“It was...awkward, like I said. I hadn’t seen her in so long, if ever, and fell out of touch with her.”

“That’s normal,” Fernando assured, “Sometimes that happens, especially moving to Seattle where all the cool kids go.” 

“For cereal, I had no fucking idea what to say to her in the hospital!” Max lamented, twirling a cold French fry between her thumb and index finger, with no plans on eating it. “Can you believe someone actually gave her a Telletubby toy?” 

“Wait, _what?_ ” Esther exclaimed, jaw dropping open. “Why?” 

“Probably thought she was a veg--” Kristin began, before Esther cleared her throat loudly.

 _“Brain damaged_. Kristin, God Himself would lose patience with you.” 

“Gee, you’re Little Miss Sensitive today.” 

“She wasn’t brain damaged at all,” Max hastened to assure, before things escalated. “She’s still smart as ever. Straight A student, complete science fangirl.” 

“A girl after my own heart,” Esther commented, grinning, “What science is she into?” 

Max pulled a face. “Chemistry.” 

“Excuse you, but chemistry is fun,” Esther folded her arms, “As is biology.” 

“Still think ass biology is gross.” 

“So mature.” 

“I know I am. Thanks for graciously noticing.” 

Esther just rolled her eyes. A few minutes passed in relative silence as they finished up their cold lunches and checked and re-checked their class schedules for the afternoon. Max’s thoughts wandered back, as they had so frequently of late, to all the potential future adventures she could do in honour of Chloe. 

_Should I say something now?_ Max worried her lip, pretending to be absorbed in her schedule. _Or should I say something later? Would they laugh at me? Would they tease me about it? Maybe I should just pass it off as an idea for a road trip._

She cast a momentary glance at Kristin and Fernando chatting again about the fun weekend party. If she told Kristin, she’d probably scoff, say she doesn’t owe Chloe anything, shouldn’t do things she’d never done just for a…

_Nope. Can’t even think that C-word to describe Chloe now. Disabled, yes. Crippled, no._

Fernando might be all for an adventure, and could be a bit more sympathetic to the cause, but Kristin had a way of guiding him by the nose, swaying him to her own convictions or reasons why he shouldn’t do something. 

_Sigh. So much for them, at least for now._

That left Esther, who would definitely be a lot more sympathetic with two open, listening ears. But how far would she let Max go with the adventures? She certainly couldn’t see Esther letting her go for a skinny dip in the middle of winter. She could hear her now, every word exactly in her tone of voice:

 _“Hypothermia exists, you crazy kid! No way we’re doing_ that! _”_

And yet…

“Hey, Esther?” Max leaned in to her, voice quiet enough that only Esther could hear.

“What’s up?” 

“I...can we meet up after school? I want to talk to you about something, and only you.” 

“I can do tomorrow after school, got stuff on all evening today, sorry. Would that be okay?” 

“Deal. I’ll text you.”

‘Everything okay, Max? You sure?” 

“I’m sure, I think. I’ll tell you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Text me the place and time and I’ll be there and square.” 

* * *

True to her word, Esther arrived right on time at Max’s cafe of choice the very next afternoon. Esther waved at Max and made a beeline for the table, turning a chair around so its back faced the table, lowering herself until she straddled its seat. 

“Hey Max, what’s going on? Talk first or order tea first?’ 

They decided to go with the tea first; after they finished ordering their favoured teas, the two girls then turned to the discussion Max sorely wanted to begin right now. 

“So, spill, what’s going on that you so wanted to tell me yesterday?” 

Max decided she might as well go straight into it, with no hour-long backstory exposition to muddy the main point. 

“I want to do something to make Chloe happy, or as happy as she can be in her state.” 

“I think you made her happy enough being at the hospital.” 

“That wasn’t my choice, but…” 

“You made her happy, right?” 

“She wasn’t the same hopeful Chloe I know--”

“Understandable.” 

“And apparently her friends are already bailing on her, as she would say.” 

Esther pursed her lips in thought. “That’s a tricky one. On the one hand it sucks that her ‘friends’ abandoned her, but on the other hand...it’s pretty tough when you’re that severely disabled you can’t realistically go out to have fun times with them.” 

“Esther, I hate thinking how I found it easier to stay here. At least I could pretend it wasn’t _that_ fucked up.” 

“Not surprised you took the easier route. Most people would. It sucks, but most would have done the same.” 

“So you’re telling me I wasn’t necessarily wrong?” 

“No, just human, that’s all. Humans suck that way.” 

“Somehow that doesn’t comfort me.” 

“Anyway, glad you got to see her though. Do you think you’ll visit Chloe again?” 

Max bit her lip, her thoughts split into two minds. 

_I know Chloe would love me visiting her again, but...I have a life here too. School, friends, concerts, parties, summer vacations..._

“Not sure, actually. I do have a life here too.” 

“You’ll at least keep in touch with her, right? It’s the least you can do.” 

Max was about to respond, only to be interrupted by their tea arriving on a tray. Once their tea was on the table, and the waitress gone, she returned to answering Esther’s question. 

“I promised her at least that much. Even if it’s just roadtrip selfies or a letter when I can find the time between clubbing and homework.” 

“That you keep putting off.” 

“Touche.” 

“You won’t be getting on any scholarships if you don’t do homework.” 

“Yes, _mom._ ” 

“All I’m saying is, you won’t regret it.” 

“You’re the one wanting to play with needles and scalpels, not me.” 

“Sure, Maxine. That’s what all surgeons do, all the time.” Esther picked up her cup and took a long sip of her tea before putting it back down with a decided clink. “So, shoot.” 

“Uh...for surgical practice on yourself? I don’t have a gun.” 

“No, I mean yesterday. What did you want to tell me? It was about Chloe, right?” 

“Esther, don’t tell Kristin and Fernando yet, okay?” 

“About what, exactly?” 

“I want to do things I wish I had while we were still together, the dares I passed up because I was too chickenshit.” 

“Like what?” 

_Okay, time to test the waters, Maxine Caulfield._

“Skinny dipping. In January. Bikini on.” 

Esther did a spit-take, coughing on her tea. “Max! Hypothermia! Exists!” 

_Hah! Knew she’d say that._

“Not if we have a plan and plenty of blankets and minions. You good over there?” 

Esther’s coughing subsided after several long seconds, picking up her napkin to wipe her mouth. “I’m still alive. Carry on.” 

“I want to find the highest diving board and leap into the deep end of the swimming pool in town.” 

“Wait--you never have?” 

“Nah. Don’t you dare judge me.” 

“I’m not judging you, Max. Just surprised you of all people haven’t done it by now.” 

“Yeah, there’s the whole fear of drowning thing I had as a kid.” 

“Fair enough. What else?” 

“Stay overnight in a haunted place.” 

“Whoa,” Esther rubbed her hands together with untethered glee, “Now _that_ I can get on board with!” 

“Ghosts and zombies still freak me out.” 

“Well, maybe we’ll meet one of those, if not both, if we’re lucky. I know just a place or two to go to.” 

Max squinted at Esther, staring at her forehead. “Yes, I can see your thinking gears turning now in your head.” 

“Yup, they certainly are cranking up there.” 

“Dye my hair, though that wasn’t a dare. That’s more something she’s always wanted to do.” 

“But do _you?_ ”

“It’s worth a try, just to see the looks on my parents’ faces.” 

“Subtle or loud dye?” 

“I...think I’m just going to go for subtle.” 

“Sure? You’re not going to go for neon green or an eclectic mix of orange and purple or whatever?’ 

“Who puts orange and purple together?” 

‘I would,” Esther said in such a way Max couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not. “Anyway, that sounds great, but long as it’s something _Max_ wants to do too.” 

“I’m definitely not getting a belly or tongue piercing--that’s what Chloe would’ve probably done. She’s always been a little bit punk, you know?” 

“Once a punk, always a punk. Like my sister, Sophia, you know. Being blind sure doesn’t stop her turning her hair pink and nearly giving mom heart failure. Brat’s still eleven years old.” 

“You’re kidding! When did she do that?” 

“A few weeks ago. Had me help, of course, because everyone knows I’m the hair dyeing expert.” 

“You are?” 

“Eh, I could do better, but always happy to help.” 

“I could go for a deep red, or just start out with blonde highlights.” 

“Blonde highlights would totally look amazing with your hair. I totally would’ve thought you of all people would go for something more daring.” 

_Sounds like something Chloe might say. Maybe she’s right? Maybe I should go for something more out there? Then again…_

“I think the list of adventures and experiences I need to tick off my bucket list now will more than make up for a subtle hair colour change.” 

“Good point, actually. And a road trip sounds totally awesome. Where?” 

“Portland.” Max was going to say more, but her words caught in her throat at a recollection of Chloe’s confession. 

_“I was going to surprise you for your eighteenth...looks like that’s not going to happen…”_

“Hey Max? You still on planet Earth, or have you taken a trip to Mars?” 

Max shook her head, taking a long sip of tea before explaining how Chloe had been planning to surprise her with a visit to Seattle on Max’s eighteenth, with a road trip to Portland on the side. 

“Oh my God, that’s--that’s gutting. I mean…” 

“Yeah, hope I won’t think too much about it on my eighteenth.” 

“You’re going to have to surprise her instead with a visit on your eighteenth, right?” 

“It’s in the middle of school--my birthday’s in September, remember?” 

“Wait, wouldn’t she have been in school too? Am I missing something?” 

“She’s like a year and a half older than me. She just turned seventeen back in March. Her accident was about a couple weeks or so after that. She’d have graduated by the time my eighteenth rolled around.” 

“Holy shit.” Esther drained the last of her tea, now reaching to fetch a mint from the small bowl on the table, unwrapping it. “That really stinks.” 

“She was pretty upset about it.” 

“I’ll wager she was.” Esther slapped her palms down on the table. “Looks like we’re going to need a grand plan, right?” 

“So you’re in on it too? You want to help?” 

“Duh, of course I do! Sophia would have my head if I didn’t volunteer to help a friend’s disabled friend, if that even made sense at all. Anyway, I think you know what I mean. I’m all in to help however I can. But...why didn’t you want to tell us all about it yesterday? Had to think about it?” 

Max bit her lower lip, feeling herself regress again a tadge into that nervous, shy kid she used to be before finding her social clique at her high school. 

_Wish I could be even better at this socialising thing. Sometimes I suck._

“You know Kristin--that bitch _would_ laugh, and she has Fernando’s ass wrapped around her pinky finger like nobody’s business.” 

Esther winced. “I still hate that she used _that_ word.” 

“Is it weird that since seeing Chloe, I can no longer bring myself to think it?” 

“Character growth is what it’s called. Good for you, Max. We’re totally going to do this, and we’re going to do it together.” 

“I really think we should play it cool with Kristin and Fernando, okay? Let them think whatever road trips we’re going on for Chloe is just…” 

“A fun road trip with friends, no more, no less?” 

“That.” 

“And like hell you’ll do any of the dares around water while drunk and or high, got it?” 

“Got it, Captain Mom.” 

“Shut up,” Esther tried to sound all scolding and stern, but the sorry-not-sorry grin slipped out all the same. “Always here to rescue you from Hades’ grabby-grabby hands whenever the need arises.” She leaned back in her chair, all business-like. “So, now that that conversation’s done, it’s time to start adventuring. What’s up first?” 

Max took a second to think, twirling a strand of hair around a finger, bringing her thoughts back to the prospect of dyeing it. Highlights really sounded like a great idea, but then...Max really wasn’t one to go by halves if she could help it, especially when out on the town on a Friday night. 

“First? The hair. We will see red before we know it.” 

Esther raised her hand for a high five. “Deal, girl. Let’s hit the shops sometime soon and find you that perfect red dye for your pretty brunette locks.” 

_Here we go. We’re doing this, we’re really doing this. For Chloe. But also for me. Because omigod, my parents’ faces when they’ll see my red hair! Next, go punk, right? Much punk, very mosh-pit? Amirite?_

* * *

Life, however, had that very annoying, very aggravating habit of always getting in the way, no matter which way you turned. Just when Max thought the teachers had _finally_ relaxed on the amount of homework they were giving everyone, then boom, they gave them all the homework. Esther ended up tied up in her own suddenly busy life when her family had to make a sudden trip to see an uncle who had just discovered grave news about his health, so no hair dye date for a while. Fernando was all caught up in his own extra-curricular activities and a series of frequent dates with a new boyfriend, leaving Max to catch up on homework with Kristin and a few other friends, including Harry--a cute skater that Kristin had an unrequited crush on--and Elaine, a cheerleader passionate about all things hockey, a love she shared with Max. 

_If only I had more time on my hands,_ Max found herself frequently lamenting at two in the morning, eyeball deep in assignments, _That would be super fucking useful. Just to give me that extra hour or two or three…_

May zipped past and before she knew it, exams were upon her, and she found herself (again) wishing she could go back and tell her past self to stop putting off all the homework until the last minute. 

_No homework, no studying, no scholarship. My parents would be so pissed if I didn’t get somewhere nice on a scholarship._

Much as her parents embarrassed her at the best of times and pissed her off at the worst of times, she still didn’t want to disappoint them _too_ much, at least in her academics anyway. She did want to go to the nicest photography school possible once this high school bullshit was over, and she could get away somewhere far from her parents, possibly meet new friends who were also into photography and didn’t tease her about it, even if it was in good spirits. 

_Would be nice to geek out with someone about photography for once._

Then, summer was upon them, exams pressing down on their shoulders and brains, Max crossing her fingers mentally that she wasn’t just bullshitting everything in her exams, palms slick with sweat as she desperately tried not to notice everyone else leaving before her. God, why was her brain so _slow_ when she was sitting with others in an exam room? She could’ve done this in half the time if she had a room of her own. She was going to fail so hard that she’d be expelled before this final (thank _god_ ) exam was even over. 

_Exams can go to fucking hell._

But now, she had a whole summer ahead of her to do whatever the fuck she wanted to do. The exams had been pressing on her brain so hard Max had forgotten entirely about Chloe--just too busy and way too stressed. She’d already run out of her (admittedly very limited, thanks to her meager allowance) stash of pot from Fernando well before the last exam, leaving her with nothing but caffeine to give her ten times the jitters, rather than ten times the zen. 

_At least I can do whatever. Parents will probably take me somewhere on a holiday. Yay, more selfies, more photos! Chloe, I_ swear _I’ll write you soon. Too busy! I’ll make up for it, really._

* * *

Every summer, Max and her parents always went somewhere on vacation, and this year was no different. Last year they had travelled to see a hockey game; this year it was to visit the state of one of her favourite childhood heroes, Hawt Dog Man. While she wasn’t expecting to find an anthropomorphic hot dog running around, she crossed her fingers that she could visit the small museum some crazy obsessed collector of Hawt Dog Man paraphernalia had started up in their own house. 

_Maybe I can find a t-shirt with Hawt Dog Man on it, and send one to Chloe. Maybe even a plush Hawt Dog Man too. I think she’d like that. We both loved that video game as kids._

It sucked that her parents refused to allow her to drink alcohol on the trip or let her have at least a glass when they went out for dinner, but Max tried her best to be on good behaviour, just so she could still go to the museum of her childhood hero, at the same time trying not to think about the fact she hadn’t even written to Chloe at all since she visited the hospital nearly four months ago. 

_How fast August has arrived. Next month will be my sweet sixteen! Hair dye session for my sixteenth. I’ll have to take a selfie of the moment._

To her happiness, the Hawt Dog Man museum ended up having a whole lot of touristy schtick she could buy, including pencils, pens, kids’ backpacks, kids’ lunchboxes, action figures, video games updated for both PC and Mac, t-shirts, and plenty of plush toys. There were even kids’ rings and bracelets featuring his handsome self, and there were a few kites with his image on them leaning against a wall. 

_I love this crazy obsessed dude. Weird but cool._

She roamed around in ever-increasing spirals between all the displays, trying to make up her mind what _she_ wanted to buy, and what she thought Chloe would enjoy. Max was so tempted to buy her a plush, and sure, it would be another fluffy thing to add to her not-really-wanted collection, but it was _Hawt Dog Man_! Chloe would have to be mad not to appreciate a cute little plush of him! 

_Way too cruel to send her pencils and pens, not sure she needs a lunchbox, she can’t play video games, let alone fly kites, anymore, and she wouldn’t need the backpacks, but maybe a t-shirt too?_

Would she ever wear the t-shirt? Would her parents or whoever helped her get dressed ever pick it out, or think it was too childish? Would Chloe be stuck with hospital gowns or very simple tops for the rest of her life? 

_Oh god, decisions, decisions…_

Max found herself momentarily wishing she had Chloe’s cell-phone number, before remembering-- _again,_ how the fuck did she keep forgetting?!--she could no longer text at all anymore. 

_God, Chloe, this really stinks. I hope you’re being treated well, that’s all, getting lots of visitors, being kept company. I can’t imagine anyone abandoning you, you’re so sweet and kind and pretty damn gorgeous._

“Maxine, why are you getting two t-shirts?” her mom wanted to know as she walked up to her with a plush (for Chloe) and the clothing in her arms. 

“One’s for Chloe, as is the plush.” 

“How very sweet of you to think of her, but isn’t she seventeen now? She’s too old for that stuff.” 

“So what, mom? I’m sixteen next month and still cry like a bitch when Mufasa dies in _The Lion King_.” 

“Please don’t use that language here.” 

“What? There’s no kids here.” 

“You promised to be on your best behaviour.” 

_Ugh, fine._

“Alright, alright, mom, don’t freak out on me.” 

“Maxine…” 

_I’ll shut up then. For now._

“I’ll behave.” 

“Thank you.” 

_You’re welcome, I guess._

Now all that was missing was a selfie with her in the t-shirt, just a little photo of her that she hoped would cheer up Chloe a little, and hopefully make up for her silence since the hospital visit. 

_Shit, she must think I bailed on her. Need to fix that quickly._

As luck would have it, the very next day, she and her parents visited the perfect location for a selfie, Max clad in her new t-shirt. Her back turned to the giant geological formation that Chloe would’ve absolutely loved (like the nature nerd that she was), Max posed for the camera in her dad’s hands, two fingers raised in a peace sign. When the photo finished printing out of the camera, Max quickly whipped out a spare pen she had in her bag for no reason and drew a little smiling stick figure. 

_You’ll be okay, Chloe. I know you will be. You’re a tough pirate._

* * *

Just like that, summer vacation ended, and the season of summer slipped away for autumn to return, and with it, Max’s sweet sixteen. A big damn deal, especially since her parents kept hinting at never peeking inside the garage lest she ruin the surprise.

_A new car, I bet. Probably not one as fancy as Chloe’s was._

Would it be fair to tell Chloe about her new car, if it _was_ one, on her sixteenth? She’d hate to bring up bad memories for her, especially as she _also_ got a car for her sixteenth birthday, and look what had happened to her. 

_Maybe I shouldn’t tell her. It might be too painful._

But wouldn’t it be sweet to be able to drive that baby down to Arcadia Bay to visit Chloe again? 

_I’d have to park it where she couldn’t see it...oh Chloe...if I could do anything, I’d give you back your freedom._

She still hadn’t heard back from Chloe, and Max crossed her fingers mentally that the box of Hawt Dog Man goodies had arrived at the Prices’ household in one piece. Surely, Arcadia Bay wasn’t _that_ far away for her parcel to go wildly rogue and end up in Connecticut or somewhere in the northern reaches of Canada, somehow. 

_Maybe I’ll write her a quick little letter. I_ did _slack off all year. To be fair, I was busy as hell._

Another piece of parchment paper--only the best and most expensive she reserved for Chloe--and she set to writing. A little quick note, but one hinting at her schemes for her sixteenth, and beyond, nevertheless. 

“Hey Chloe,” she wrote, “Sorry I haven’t been around much. Life’s pretty busy, and I just came back from holidays. I want you to know I’m thinking about you, and I haven’t forgotten you. I’m sure you have lots of friends to keep you company in Arcadia Bay, anyway. Anyway, I’m gonna dye my hair red one of these days. Will send you a selfie. I’d do a skinny dip, but it’s still way too warm. Shame my birthday’s not in like November or December instead. Get ready for me to go get some adventures and childhood dares I chickened out of ticked off for ya. Love, Max.” 

_I swear, I will visit again someday._

* * *

_I wish every birthday was on a Friday or Saturday or Sunday. Not stuck literally in the middle of the school week._

Nevertheless, despite having to endure school on her own sixteenth birthday, her friends more than made up for this indignity, surprising her at lunch-time by lavishing little gifts upon her. Kristin naturally gave her a couple pottles of nailpolish--one black and one purple (alternating purple and black nails were _so_ on the agenda); Fernando surprised her with tickets to a concert in December (naturally they were all going to go); and Esther gave her a set of coloured pens and another set of beautiful parchment paper. That was definitely going to be saved up for all the letters she still had yet to write to Chloe. Other than her regular three, some other friends dropped past to bestow her with little presents or cards, including a gift voucher for a jewelry shop, and a big box of chocolates. 

_Not bad for a birthday in the middle of the week._

The moment she arrived home from school later that day, her parents immediately took her bag and things, asking her to close her eyes as they led her to her new surprise. Her father gripped her shoulders, steering her in the direction of the garage. 

“It’s not fancy, but it’s going to serve you well.” 

“A new car, right?” Max guessed, eyes still closed. 

“How’d you know?” 

“What else could be in the garage on my sixteenth birthday?” 

“Well…” 

Max felt her father’s hands leave her shoulders, and a few seconds later, heard the garage door opening, her mother telling her to open her eyes when they were done. 

_I hope it’s purple._

As it turned out, it was a deep twilight blue, small, and clearly second-hand, but still a car all the same. 

_Whoa...I can totally learn to drive now._

Something held her back from full excitement, leaving Max standing there in a state that bordered on sincere, all-out excitement, but not quite crossing it. 

“Are...you happy with it?” her dad asked, a hand on her shoulder. “Happy birthday, sweetie.” 

_If I can get someone who actually can drive...that would be amazing. A trip to Portland? I’m so on it._

“I love it, thanks.” 

“Go on, have a seat inside.” 

_Chloe was my age when she got her car._

Max walked to the driver’s side, running a finger over the window pane, bending to take a peek inside, seeing at once this was clearly an automatic, and there was another present sitting in the passenger’s seat. Another gift from mom and dad, probably a manual on how to drive and whatever. 

_Okay, here goes nothing._

She opened the door, lowering herself into the driver’s seat, edging her knees under the steering wheel, her feet tapping against the accelerator and brakes. She tilted her head to see if there was a key in the ignition, but there wasn’t one. 

“Take a look inside your gift,” her mom said, smiling down at her. 

Max grabbed the small present from the seat next to her, ripping into the brown paper with zeal, revealing, as she guessed, a road manual and a set of keys that dropped into her lap. 

_Ah hah, this must be the car keys!_

Max couldn’t help a grin, thinking about all the adventures that could be had with just a turn of the ignition, once she learned how to drive this baby. She had to give it a name. Mad Max? Supermax? Supersonic Max? Max to the Max? 

_Okay, I guess I can think of a better name later._

“We’ll teach you how to drive at the weekends,” her dad was saying now, “And you better _not_ try to drive on your own or under the influence of alcohol. No way you’re ending up in a car crash when our backs are turned. You don’t want to end up like your friend.” 

_Wow, no shit._

“Omigod, dad, honestly. Did you really _need_ to remind me about Chloe?”

“Maxine!” her mother admonished. “Your dad was trying to warn you about driving without a license, okay?” 

“You didn’t need to bring Chloe into this. And it wasn’t her fault either, it was the dick who rammed into her and drove off like a coward.” 

“Please don’t argue, not today, when we just want to celebrate your sixteenth,” her mother pleaded. “We just want you to be safe, okay?” 

_Well...I guess they_ are _concerned for my wellbeing, now that I’m old enough to start learning to drive. We are talking about a metal box that can kill you or worse._

Max took a deep breath, forcing her words into a semblance of cheer. 

“You’re right, mom. I swear, I won’t do anything stupid in this car. Or any other car.” 

_Bad enough Chloe’s quadriplegic because of some douchebag with a tiny dick. No way am I gonna deliberately do something stupid to put_ me _in her situation._

Max didn’t even want to think about how it would destroy Chloe inside if she were killed--or rendered completely paralysed. 

_I’ll keep safe, for you. I promise. And one day, I’ll drive you to see the Pacific Ocean in all its glory, though we’d have to like take a van or caravan or something. We could park on the beach, picnic in the vehicle, and almost pretend we’re about to sail out on the seven seas and plunder booty._

_Almost._

* * *

The end of 2011 came around _fast_ , with Christmas looming on the horizon, and the big weekend trip to see the concert, the tickets more than ready to be used for a few hours of eardrum-bursting fun. At least it was finally cold enough to do a skinny-dip, and not even a dozen Esthers could hold her back from diving headlong into the frigid ocean on a December morning (or night. Or afternoon. Probably didn’t really matter what time of day, really.) 

_Gonna do something with my hair, finally. Maybe after the skinny-dip and before the concert._

Despite all her imaginings of going punk just for Chloe’s sake, she knew that she wasn’t ever going to go _full_ punk--she really couldn't see herself dyeing her hair outrageous colours or getting a million piercings or a full sleeve tattoo. Maybe a small one on the shoulder or something, but not really punk-punk. knowing herself, she'd go for something like the image of a full bottle of beer or something. Or...maybe not. She'd probably regret it at 25 or something. But a hair colour change she wouldn't regret, even if it wasn't neon orange or electric blue, or red so bright it would stop traffic on Saturn. Something that was subtle, blending in with her brown hair, a deep autumn or blonde highlights would be as far as she would go, for now.

_Selfies all the way down. Time to do or die, Max. Let’s do this. Chloe, you’re gonna get a big care package from me for Christmas. You deserve it._

But at least _now,_ after spending all year planning, she was on her way with her friends to more adventures. Sunny skies and deep, snow-less winter followed them from Seattle, with one stop on the way to the backpackers at the beach, just for Max to first do her little skinny dip, much to the amusement of Fernando and Kristin, and to the fascinated horror of Esther. But no way she was backing down this time, no way was she going to chicken out of this. This was for Chloe, Chloe who hadn’t responded to any of her letters yet, but maybe it was the circumstances--it no doubt would be a lot harder to write for her. 

“Are you _sure_ , Max?” Esther asked as she looked over at Max, head and shoulders deep in the boot of the car, hunting down a duffel bag full of towels, and tugging out at least a couple of blankets.

“You promised you’re all in for this, right?” Max said, even as she stripped down to the bikini she had on under her clothes; a spare change was all ready for her inside the duffel bag with the towels. “No backing out after all this. And Esther’s our mom, she can handle this.” 

_Okay, Maxine, let’s do it._

“Don’t you dare drop this in the water, got it?” Max warned Fernando as she handed her camera to him. “Or I’ll literally end you.”

“Striking fear into the hearts of men and women alike, that’s you, Max.” 

“You better not forget it.”

“Race you to the water!” Kristin yelled at them before running off, everyone else giving chase, duffel bag and camera and all in tow, their laughter startling seagulls into flight over their heads. A distance away, a dog began yapping like crazy, running off in their direction before being called back by its owner. 

Running and stumbling along the way, the friends scampered through clouds of sand , their feet imprinting the damp edge where the waves lapped as the tide slowly receded as they came to a halt, out of breath, laughing all the same. Goosebumps leaped up on Max’s legs and arms, her jaw chattering a little, but she clenched her teeth tight, refusing to back down. 

_Fight me, winter. Fucking fight me._

Fernando didn’t notice the crab he crunched underfoot as he positioned himself at just the right spot to take a snap of Max as soon as she emerged from under the waves, sun and water glistening on bare shoulders. 

_Right, Maxine, time to do it!_

Max lowered herself to the sand, taking the attitude of an Olympic sprinter at the block, eyes burning into the waves, her toes and hands firm on the sand. Her lips pressed tight, her jaw clenched in determination, she took a deep breath, psyching herself up for it. 

_For you, sweet Chloe._

She forced her brain to call up an image of Chloe as she remembered her before the accident, her hope, her smile, her eyes, her unwavering cheer, her never-ending supply of dares she heaped upon Max. She imagined her watching from the shoreline, arms folded, tapping an impatient foot as she waited for Max to take the leap into the winter waves. 

“Are you gonna do it?” Kristin asked. 

“For Chloe,” she said under her breath. 

With that, Max pushed off her hands and sprinted, arms swinging, feet pounding sand and shells, opening her mouth in a yell of anticipation and exhilaration as cold, damp sand squished under the soles of her feet. 

_Take me on, ocean!_

She didn’t so much dive as leap, arms and legs flailing out like a starfish, at the wave looming before her, the stinging chill knocking the breath out of her as she went under the water, bubbles of exhalation flying from her mouth. Her whole body convulsed, the cold deep in her bones, her toes curling up, hands coming to clutch at her elbows as she breached the surface, screaming in pain and exhilaration. 

_“I DID IT!”_ she screamed back at the shore, before being knocked under again by a rogue wave, a split-second after she saw her friends all cheering on the beach, the camera in Fernando’s hands spitting out a polaroid. 

Max somehow managed to stumble out of the waves, sinking to her knees, rubbing her hands furiously up and down her arms. Her whole body had become numb now, her jaw chattering like crazy, only looking up when Esther and Kristin ran over, lifting her up and wrapping at least two towels around her. 

“You madwoman!” Esther marveled, tucking the towel around as tight as she could. “You _did_ it!” 

Kristin and Esther wrapped their arms around Max the burrito, clinging close to her as they walked back toward the car. 

“Wait, Fernando,” Max said as they joined with him. “One more photo, okay? So...so my expression can be seen.” 

“Right, one more,” he said, raising the camera to his eyes again, Max posing again, the towel slipping off one shoulder; Kristin was about to readjust it, but a quick shake of the head dissuaded her from it. 

_Way to tease Chloe with a bare shoulder_ oh _so casually shrugging out…_

“You little tease,” Esther nudged her after the photo was done, “For...someone special?” 

Max could tell by the way she lowered her voice and gave her a meaningful look that she was talking about Chloe. She gave her a little grin and knowing wink in response. 

“You know it.” 

_Oh man! Why did I ever turn down that dare?_

Max was glad for the warm interior of the car when she was all bundled inside, her hands immediately reaching for a pen, the two photos in hand, happy that Fernando had captured the very moment she’d emerged from the waves like a breaching dolphin, salt and spray flying off her, sparkling under the weak sunlight. 

_“Just a cute little skinny-dip in winter at the beach,”_ she wrote in small letters under the image itself, _“It was amazing. Wishing you were here. Maxine.”_

She didn’t mind the close up photo of her either, though she wished her forehead wasn’t so scrunched from the cold-induced headache that had pulsed in her head, or her cheeks weren’t so red. But her freckles were clear, and the shoulder looked pretty damn good. 

_“Maxine the Human Burrito, all wrapped up after the dip. Aren’t I just the cutest?”_

She hoped Chloe would love the photos, and not be too jealous she couldn’t be there to see Max finally take a dip in a wintry ocean. Even if Chloe hadn’t written back (not yet, anyway, but Max still hoped), she deserved to share in the fun, even if they were apart. She smiled to imagine Chloe’s reaction, perhaps a cheer on seeing the photos. Knowing Chloe, it would be a loud shout of joy, not caring if anyone heard or admonished her. 

_I’m gonna send you awesome shit for Christmas at the end of this trip. If I find your glowy punk bear, I’ll be sure to send it to its new home. Merry Christmas, Chloe. I’ll be sure to see you next year._


	3. 2012 (Part 1) - Visiting Chloe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max finally makes time to visit Chloe in person, surprising her for her 18th birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Tobanga, I started out the chapter intending to make it entirely in 2012, but the chapter apparently had OTHER ideas, like becoming a long-ass 11k+ beast and that was JUST at Chloe's place! So it looks like this fic's gonna have even more chapters than I thought, but that's okay. Also, I'm gonna blame the extra addition about the cosmic microwave background and the cold spot for this (it'll hopefully make more sense to you when it comes up in the chapter.) 
> 
> Just a bit of a heads-up: next chapter may bump up the rating to an M, depending what happens in that chapter.

Even in the first few days of 2012, Max could still feel the biting chill of the ocean and how she had rose up from the foam with a scream of pain, exhilaration, and more than a dash of “omigod did I just _fucking_ do that?!” She, even now, was gladder still that Fernando had _perfectly_ captured the split second moment she’d rose out of the waves like Venus from her shell, skin scarlet, back turned to the beach, arms raised up to the overcast sky. 

_Still can’t believe that actually happened. For legit._

Her own Christmas had seen Max and her parents visiting relatives out of state for a few weeks before coming back to a Seattle deep in winter, and no letter (much to her disappointment) from Chloe. For the first time, a twinge of frustration ran through her, even despite trying to tell herself, again, that surely it was because Chloe wasn’t able to write back because, well, _duh._ But even then--the 21st century still had amazing technology that would easily (after some practice and adjustments) allow Chloe to write back in some form or another. Esther had told her about a kid she’d looked after that needed a mouth-controlled joystick to use a computer, and they were able to do some pretty sick-as graphic design. 

_I gotta have_ some _sort of sign she’s receiving my letters and gifts,_ Max found herself thinking more and more often as January flipped over into February, _Unless she’s...oh God, no. Nope._

Chloe couldn’t be dead, _shouldn’t_ be dead. Her parents would call the Caulfields, right? If anything were to happen to her, there would be a call, right? William or Joyce would no doubt have called up and left a message if no one was home had Chloe...had she...

_I hope she’s doing okay._

She wished she still had the Prices’ phone number--she’d never had to really remember it that much while she still lived in Arcadia Bay, for she could literally go to Chloe’s at any time she wanted to. It helped too that she had gone to Chloe’s house almost every day after school during the week, and often went to visit in the weekends as well. She had stayed over at Chloe’s so much that her own house had begun to feel more like a place she visited, and the Prices’ more like a home she felt most like herself in. 

_How ironic that I don’t have their number. But maybe my parents have it? They keep numbers in a little book, I think._

It was a very chilly February morning, though, and Max didn’t feel much like dragging herself from under a thick pile of blankets, and instead, she reached for her cell-phone, thinking maybe she might find their number online instead. Surely, Arcadia Bay had an online database of phone numbers, that is, if the Prices had registered their home number with them. 

Seeing the current day on her cell-phone after unlocking it triggered another thought. 

_Omigod. Her eighteenth’s next month. I wish I could surprise her with a visit. To think her accident was nearly a year ago now._

Instead of turning to the internet, she decided to quickly check the phone calendar to see which day of the week March 11th landed on; it turned out to be on a Sunday. 

_Hey cool, I could stay a weekend or something._

That is, of course, if Chloe wouldn’t mind. They hadn’t had a sleepover for at least a few years now, and it was now a question of whether Chloe would be up for it. They could always watch a movie together or watch some concerts on Youtube if nothing else. If Chloe needed help with anything, Max swore she’d be right there to help, no questions asked. 

_And to think I almost never visited her because I was_ so _uncomfortable.  
_

She really, _really_ hoped Chloe hadn’t just given up on life after all, bailing on the chance to rise to the challenge like she usually would. Chloe was unbeatable, nothing could slow her down, and the last time Max had seen her was in the hospital, seemingly already defeated before she had begun to fight her new lot in life. 

_You better have held to the promise, Chloe. I held on to mine for you, so you better do the same._

How ironic it would be that the very person who had brought a little girl out of her quiet, shy shell, and encouraged her to take on dares and adventures over the years, would also be the one to give up on finding new ways to fight the new challenges brought her way. 

_I swear, after I finish school, I’ll come back, and we’re going to kick ass together. Watch us, world._

Max opened her favourite browser on her phone and searched for the online Arcadia Bay phone number database, scrolling carefully through the several Prices that were present there. 

_Okay, that’s definitely not them, and that’s probably not them, and...that_ might _be them. Oh wait, that’s an I, not a J. Dammit._

With a groan of frustration, Max closed the browser and dumped the phone back on her dresser.

_Dammit, dammit, dammit. There has to be another way._

It looked like she would have to part with her beloved blankets, at least for a few minutes anyway, just to go hunt down her parents’ contacts book surely hidden somewhere within the vicinity of the phone. 

_Sorry blankets, I’ll be back._

A good few minutes of rummaging around the mess that was the table-top on which the phone rested finally unleashed the phone book from its hiding place. 

_Buried treasure! I hope._

Max opened the cover, running her fingers down the letters until she found “P”, and opened it to that section. 

_Price, Price, Price… why didn’t I ever think of doing this before?_

And, yet, despite all her hopes of it being in there...no prize to be found. Max snapped the book shut with a groan of frustration, throwing it back on the table. 

“Oh man, are you cereal?” 

_Nothing here either. Great. So much for leaving my warm bed._

She _so_ didn’t feel right sending a letter directly to the parents to check--who _did_ that? It would be _so_ weird to send a letter to the parents, even if to ask if Chloe got her letters and gifts, and what her phone number was. 

_Maybe I should write my own number down next time I send her a letter. Damn. That would’ve made life so much easier since, like, last year._

Time to reunite with her bed and the parchment paper reserved only for Chloe. 

* * *

March came around with a whiff of spring in the air, and the anticipation of going down to Arcadia Bay for a weekend; she had managed to convince her parents that she _really_ needed to see Chloe, surprise her for her eighteenth birthday. She’d already sent a letter ahead of time to Chloe’s parents, telling them of her plans to come down for the weekend; she remembered to include her cellphone number as well, just in case they--or Chloe--needed to call her. She hadn’t expected a message back--whether that be in letter or text message form--and thus, it had been a pleasant surprise when a letter, handwritten by one of Chloe’s parents obviously, returned from Chloe. 

_She wants to see me! Damn, I’ve got so many plans for us! And she already has her wheelchair? We can sneak out at night to a concert then or something?_

Her friends back in Seattle had variant flavours of reactions to Max telling them she had to miss another big night out to spend time with Chloe in Arcadia Bay that very Friday.

“That’s amazing! She’ll be so thrilled to see you!” Esther had said, giving Max a gentle hug. 

“Hey that’s cool. But you’re gonna make it up to us next time, right?” Fernando had commented. 

“Really? I’d be bored having to spend a weekend with someone in a wheelchair,” Kristin had opined, and Max had found herself wishing she’d kept that opinion to herself. Some small part of her had wanted to call her out, but she didn’t want to lose the friends she’d made here either. 

Instead, she had responded, “Chloe’s never boring, and no wheelchair’s gonna stop her from being amazing.” 

“Sure. It’s nice of you to spend time with her, even though it’d be nicer of you to spend it with us.” 

“Thanks, guys, I’ll be fine, I promise. Chloe can keep a girl busy all night if she wants,” Max had assured, before adding quickly, hoping no-one saw her slight blush, “And busy all day too.” 

* * *

Back in the present, after a long snooze, Max awoke to the bus finally pulling up into its final stop in the heart of Arcadia Bay, three or four blocks away from the Price household. The sun had already begun setting later and later, and, thanks to a delay on the road between here and Seattle, it was already below the horizon--dinnertime already. 

_Hopefully I can make it before it’s totally dark. Unless I can get one of her parents to give me a lift._

She’d already warned them that the delay was going to make her even later, and had insisted that she would find a quick takeaway place to have dinner on the way to their place. But when she got off the bus and checked her cell-phone, she discovered a text from Chloe’s number, though it had been William who wrote the text. 

**Max, I can give you a ride to our place, so you don’t have to walk with your luggage in the dark. Let me know when you’re here. Joyce has your dinner in the oven to keep it warm.**

_As usual, William’s always keen to help when needed._

**Thanks. I’m here now. I hope Chloe’s doing okay.**

It didn’t take long for a quick response to buzz on her phone. 

**I’ll be down there very soon. Give me ten or so minutes to get there. Chloe’s very excited to see you again.**

True to his word, William arrived in just under fifteen minutes in his car, and in no time, Max found herself back at the Price residence for the first time in three years. Even in the dimming light, she could tell that the whole exterior of the house had been fully repainted in Chloe's favourite shade of deep blue. 

_If it looks good_ now, _I bet it looks amazing in full daylight._

Max nearly stopped in her tracks part way up the path to the front door on seeing the newly installed ramp. While she wasn’t surprised to see the new wheelchair ramp near the front door, it nevertheless sent a jolt of reality through Max at the reminder of Chloe’s new life. 

_At least she can come outside in her wheelchair…_

“Chloe’s probably still having her dinner at the table,” William told Max as he unlocked and opened the front door, “Joyce will be feeding her.” 

_Shit, that sucks. Knowing you have to spend the rest of your life being handfed by others. Even your own family._

“I guess I’ll take my stuff upstairs--”

“We’ve converted the garage into a new bedroom for her,” William interrupted, “It’s easier.” 

_Oh. Of course._

“Right,” Max said, forcing herself to sound a little more upbeat than she felt right now, “I see.” 

_What happened to her old room?_ Max wondered as she followed William down the hall to the main dining/lounge and kitchen area of the house. But she didn’t get more than a few seconds to dwell on the fate of Chloe’s bedroom before she heard Joyce’s voice coming from the dining area.

“Sounds like Max is here at last!” 

Then--Chloe’s jubilant voice. “Max?! You’re finally here!” 

Max’s heart leaped at Chloe’s voice, glad that she sounded so much happier and more like the old cheery Chloe she knew again. 

_I hope that sticks. I hated seeing Chloe so defeated in the hospital. She sounds so much better._

William gestured for Max to go meet Chloe and Joyce, while he took her suitcase in his hand. 

“I’ll take your things into Chloe’s room--we’ve already set up a mattress for you in there.” 

“Thanks, William,” Max nodded with a smile, before walking out to the main area of the house, a jolt of nostalgia running through her at seeing the couch (which doubled as a pirate ship on rainy days), the fireplace roaring in the corner (marshmallows were _so good_ ), and the wide backyard outside now in deep darkness outside the sliding doors. 

And there, at the table, was Chloe in her wheelchair, Joyce sitting next to her with a fork, the plate nearly empty. Chloe’s eyes locked on to Max, her whole face lighting up with unrestrained joy. Ignoring the fresh forkful of food Joyce was bringing toward her, Chloe scooted backwards, leaning her head in to what looked like a control to pull herself around to wheel toward Max. Behind her, Joyce shook her head with an amused smile, replacing the fork on Chloe’s plate. 

Max found herself not knowing what to do as Chloe wheeled up to a stop right at her feet, her wide smile soft and sweet and so heartachingly genuine it almost didn’t matter she had a _fucking tube in her throat_ now. 

_God, Chloe...that prick really fucked you up. What do I do with my hands? Do I bend down to your level? Do I crouch? What even are my arms? Why are they dangling there? Should I give you a hug? Would I hurt you if I did?_

“Max, I’m so glad you’re here,” Chloe’s voice sounded nearly the same as Max remembered it to be, just hoarser and quieter. 

Max rubbed the back of her neck, hoping her self-consciousness wasn’t showing as blatantly as she thought it was. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Max apologised, “Bus got delayed and--”

“I’ve got your share in the oven,” Joyce interrupted, getting up from her chair, already moving to the kitchen as she spoke, “Kept it warm just for you if you still want it.” 

Max clutched her stomach as it gurgled with more noise than it _really_ should have at the thought of dinner. Chloe’s eyes sparkled, her grin growing wider. 

“I can hear your stomach from here, Max.” 

“Yeah, I could eat a dinosaur right now.” 

Chloe laughed, eyes squinting in that adorable way that made Max’s heart skip a beat. 

“You’re at least sixty-five million years too late for roast dinosaur.” 

“Oh, damn it. What a blow. I was hoping for a leg of T-Rex.” 

“Go sit at the table, Max. I’m sure you don’t want to delay a night of funtimes,” Chloe winked up at Max with a cheeky grin. “I’ll race you.” 

With that, Chloe leaned her head back, her wheelchair coasting off back to the table; she was already back at her original place even before Max reached one of the chairs. 

“Hey, that’s not fair. You have your wheelchair, and I have my two feet.” 

“Take up jogging, hippie, and you’ll keep up soon enough. Gotta keep up with me around here.” 

Joyce returned and set down a full plate of dinner, still toasty from its time being kept warm in the oven. Max's mouth watered at the smell, stomach growling even louder in anticipation. 

“Man, I’m ravenous tonight. Thanks, Joyce.” 

Joyce laid a warm hand on Max’s shoulder. “You’re always welcome, Max. I’m glad you’re here to keep Chloe company. Eat up.” 

With that, Joyce returned to her own seat next to Chloe, taking up the forkful of food again for her, bringing it to her daughter’s mouth. Worrying that Chloe would catch her looking and think she was staring, Max forced her attention and eyes to her own dinner, trying not to look up too often in her friend’s direction. 

_Just be normal. Act normal. Wait. Am I even acting normal? What’s normal here anymore? Oh my god. Why can I act fine around my other friends but not Chloe? I don’t want to look like I’m staring. What the fuck do I do?_

If only life had given her a manual at birth on how to act around disabled people. 

_Dammit. I really should’ve checked on Google for tips. Probably would’ve all told me to “act normal” anyway, so screw that._

The door opening and shutting behind her, followed by William’s voice and then the TV being turned on at least gave Max a distraction from her thoughts for a while. She forced herself to listen to the to the news, hoping she looked like she was concentrating hard on the spokeswoman’s voice talking about a tsunami threat somewhere in the Pacific. 

She nearly jumped out of her chair when Chloe spoke after her while of silence. 

“Mom, I’m really done now.” 

Max looked up before she could stop herself, seeing Chloe shaking her head in refusal at a forkful of food. 

“You don’t eat much these days,” Joyce said, but Chloe still refused.

“Really. I’m not hungry.” 

“Suit yourself.” Joyce set down the fork and got up to clear the table as Chloe moved away in her wheelchair. “I suppose you’ll be going to your room again?” 

“Yeah,” Chloe confirmed, before looking at Max, “You coming too? You can finish up dinner in my room. We _so_ have to catch up after all this time.” 

Max let out a deep breath. Okay, so far, she seemed to be doing okay. Acting “normal”. 

“I think I’m done with dinner too,” Max said, putting down her own fork and knife and standing up from her chair, “I’m right behind you, Chloe.”

Turning away from the table and from Joyce, Max followed Chloe through the open door leading into her new bedroom. On the threshold, Max stopped in her tracks, eyes widening as she took in Chloe’s whole new room and world. As Chloe moved ahead down the ramp to the desk with the giant computer screen, Max slowly moved her gaze around the room.

_Whoa, it’s so different from her old room._

Gone were all the posters showcasing her science nerdiness--Max had never cared much for science if at all, but now she found herself missing Chloe’s periodic table, the e=mc2 poster, and the various pictures of different planets. Gone were the posters of boy bands and the one poster of that cool girl--wasn’t she an up-and-coming singer?--with the blue hair and headphones. 

Sure, it wasn’t like the walls were completely bare--Max could appreciate the sweet framed photo of a cityscape, wasn’t really sure what to make of the “faith” poster with the angels, and had no idea what was going on with the framed drawing of the four cartoon faces. Max spotted a few photos pinned to the wall behind Chloe’s bed--definitely a hospital bed, and not her old mattress--and a framed photo of what she assumed to be a couple of her relatives sat on the desk. 

_Huh, wonder what happened to that thing she had that she hung my photos from._

Gone was the American flag, her hand-made solar system model, the blue dresser with their stickers, the stacks and stacks of science and music magazines, the awesome light-up globe, the posters of boy bands and imaginary animals, and everything that had made Chloe’s room _Chloe’s_ was now...absent. Lost to her old life when she could still rock out to her favourite punk rock tunes, skate all over Arcadia Bay, and look up at the stars from the swing her dad made so many years ago.

_Wonder where it all went--maybe the attic? I’ve half a mind to go up there and...Chloe-ify this place up again.  
_

“Hey, Max,” Chloe said from the desk, jolting Max out of her thoughts, “Mind closing the door? Drafts and whatever might come in.” 

“Oh!” Max shook herself out of her reverie and quickly turned to shut the door. “Sorry. I--I was just distracted by how different your room looks.” 

“You’re not wrong,” Chloe pulled away from the desk, turning around. “Probably a bit of a shock, huh?” 

Max ambled into the centre of the room, hands on hips, turning on the spot to take in the entire room, including the various machinery next to the bed, the IV drip, what looked like an expensive heat lamp, the mounds of supplies on the shelf above Chloe’s bed and in plastic boxes against the wall opposite, the HD TV attached above another dresser, and on that dresser was--

“Oh!” Max cried in delight, “You _did_ get my Hawt Dog Man plush I sent to you!” 

“And the shirt, though my nurses insist it's too childish for me to wear."

“That’s a _lot_ of snow globes--hey, one has a skateboard in it. Interesting, I’ve never seen anything like that before. Aw, there’s your favourite deer snow globe.” Max’s eyes flickered down to the drawers, and then up at the TV. “I’m guessing you keep your movies in here too?” 

“Yeah. We’re gonna have a kickass movie night right?” 

Max grinned. “You bet your sweet ass we will.” 

“Yours is pretty sweet too, Max,” Chloe remarked as she turned back around to the computer again. 

Wandering away from the dresser, carefully stepping over the ramp, Max walked up to the pinboard, a little surprised at how empty it looked even up close. 

_I’d thought more people would have sent her well wishes or letters. Hmm…_

Max unpinned the first postcard, turning it over to see it was from her parents. 

_Ah, so_ that’s _the one they sent after Chloe’s accident._

She repinned it to the board and unpinned the only other postcard present--from someone named Megan Weaver. 

“Oh, Megan sounds nice.” 

“Never change, Max. Glad to see you’re as nosy as ever.” 

“That’s me, alright. Sounds like this Megan’s a good friend.” 

Chloe sighed. “She did visit a couple of times in the hospital, but never again, even after I came back home.” 

“Maybe she’ll call or something?” 

“Nah, she never answers or texts back.” Chloe was starting to sound glummer with every word. “Bailed like everyone else, really. Except for you.” 

Max quietly replaced the postcard, catching sight of the selfie she had taken while wearing her Hawt Dog Man t-shirt. 

“That’s so cute, Chloe, that you have my Hawt Dog Man selfie up here.” 

“Good to see you enjoying yourself without me to slow you down,” Chloe commented, “At least I can live through your photos and letters.” 

Max chewed on her lip, bothered a little by Chloe’s tone and words. 

“You’re not jealous of me, right? I mean…” 

“No, no, not jealous at all,” Chloe said, perhaps a little too quickly, “I’m just happy you’re out there taking the world by storm.” 

“Did you get my skinny dip picture?” 

Chloe nodded. “Hell yeah I did. It’s in my photo album.” 

Max left the pinboard and joined Chloe at the desk, leaning her hip against its edge, remembering again that exhilaration of taking that dip in freezing winter waves whipped up by a stiff breeze off the ocean. 

“I froze my ass off, but it was _so_ fucking worth it. I just wish you’d been there too.” 

Chloe gazed around at Max, a small smile at the corner of her mouth. “You did it for me, right? So I guess in a way I was there. Just in your thoughts.” 

“So, what are you doing on this behemoth?” Max gestured at the huge computer screen. “How’re you controlling it?” 

Chloe nodded at what looked like a weird device in front of her. “This thing. A mouth-controlled joystick. Super useful.” 

“So you can move the cursor and watch videos and stuff?” 

“With the right tongue action, yes, I can.” 

“Tongue action, huh?” 

“Hey, practice is good. Grab that seat from next to my bed and sit with me.” 

Max pulled the chair over and plopped down in it as Chloe pulled up Youtube. 

“Want to see some of my favourite punk concerts? C’mon, we gotta get your punk rock girl out, right?” 

Max laughed, slouching back in the chair, surprised at how much more at ease she felt now than she’d had at the dinner table. 

_Maybe Chloe just has that effect on me naturally. After all, we’ve been besties forever, right?_

“Okay, girl, you’re gonna have to be my typist,” Chloe declared, nodding at the keyboard. 

“Right, let me grab that,” Max said as she reached over to pull it toward her, clicking on the Youtube search box. “I await your commands, Captain. Maybe you’ll even see my shake my bony white ass if the music is good enough.” 

“Good enough?” 

“I mean good enough to dance to. I’m sure the music you listen to kicks ass.” 

“You know it. Now listen to every word I say.” 

For the next little while, probably at least half an hour or so, Max sat next to Chloe, listening to the latter’s favourite punk rock hits, tapping her feet and moving in her chair with the beats, until she could no longer sit and dance, but had to jump to her feet and let it go. Chloe swung around in her wheelchair to drink in Max dancing to her top tunes. 

“That’s it, Max!” Chloe cheered, “Break it down!” 

Max wished she could have just gone on all night, listening to the music with Chloe, nearly forgetting that the latter could never dance again. But the rhythm was so deep in her bones she couldn’t help but dance about the room until, breathless, sweaty, and exhausted (in a good way, of course), she flopped down on Chloe’s bed, carefully making sure she didn't hit anything important along the way. Hands on stomach, she leaned her head over the edge of the bed, gazing across at Chloe as the final beats of the last song finished. Chloe wheeled over until she was a foot or so away from Max. 

“Wow, Max, you’re hot, sweaty, and in my bed!” 

Max grinned. “You do know how to make a girl want more.”

“I’m so glad you’re here with me, you have no idea.” 

Max pulled herself back up, the effect of all her blood rushing to her head getting a little much. Chloe really did look like she’d enjoyed herself. 

_At least I’m doing something right._

“Do you...want to do anything else?” Max asked.

Chloe pulled a face, wincing. “My caregiver’s gonna be here any time to help my parents get me ready for bed. She’s the grumpy, bitchy kind."

“Ugh, are they _all_ like that?” 

“Nah, just most of them, you know. There’s always one that baby-talks at me and pats my head like I’m a little girl when she’s done caring for me.” 

“Have you told her to knock it off?” 

“Do I look like the kind of girl who’d just sit there and take it? Metaphorically speaking.” 

“Nah, not really.” 

“Exactly. If I’ve yelled at her once to stop, I’ve done it a thousand times. I’ve been tempted to bite her hand next time she does it.” 

Max gave her a wicked grin. “Maybe you ought. Sharks bite.” 

“Damn, Max, don’t lead me to the dark side.” 

Right then, there was a knock at the bedroom door, followed by Joyce’s voice. 

“Chloe, your caregiver is here to help us get you ready. Max, you can stay in the lounge until she’s done.” 

Max’s eyes flicked between Chloe and the door. 

“You sure I can’t help with anything?” 

_Please say no. It’s gonna be so uncomfortable if--_

“Nah, it’ll be over in no time. Really.” 

A jolt of relief went through her, and she stood up, making her way to the door and opening it, revealing Joyce and an old lady with a stern, no-nonsense countenance standing with clear impatience behind her. 

_That must be the caregiver. Yikes, she looks like someone who’d_ jam _a needle into someone and take pleasure in it._

* * *

It took a lot longer than Max thought it would for Chloe to be readied for bedtime, and she grew fidgety waiting and waiting on the couch, having already flipped through a magazine left on the coffee table in front of the TV. 

_We used to play so many video games here and watch so many movies…_

Max couldn’t stay still any longer, and the pull to go upstairs and see what Chloe’s old room looked like now grew too much. 

_I_ have _to see what it looks like now. Maybe it’ll still be the same._

Getting up, she made her way down the hall to ascend the staircase, immediately turning in the direction of Chloe’s old bedroom. 

_Hope I won’t regret it and find it’s empty and then end up a basketcase because all the old memories are gone. Here goes nothing._

Max pushed the door handle down, edging the door open just a little, enough that the hallway light spilled into what used to be Chloe’s bedroom. Just enough for Max’s breath to hitch and for her heart to sink. 

_God, it’s so...empty._

Everything in her screamed to shut the door right now, turn away from the pain of seeing all their old shared memories packed away into boxes, cleared from bookshelves, and removed from a once-brimming closet. She didn’t want to imagine the windows without their curtains picked by Chloe herself, nor the walls devoid of all the posters that she had once loved. Those posters were essentially the wallpaper of her old room, and it was awful to think about them being taken down, possibly hidden away in boxes or even the attic forever. 

_You know what,_ Max thought, shutting the door firmly, _I don’t think I can face that. Not now. Not when I can be having fun with--_

“Max!” 

_Oh, Joyce is calling for me--that must mean Chloe’s ready now._

“I’m coming!” Max shouted as she came back down the stairs, meeting Joyce halfway down the hall. “I’m guessing Chloe’s in bed now?” 

“She is, Max. You can go in now.” 

Max gave her a nod of thanks and moved past her, making a beeline straight for Chloe’s new room with its door ajar, revealing her hooked up to the IV drip and ventilator, her face a picture of annoyance, with a little misery thrown in. And yet, when her eyes met Max’s, she gave her a wan smile. 

“Finally, a sight for sore eyes.” 

Max shut the door behind her and went straight to Chloe’s bed, placing her hands gently on her arm tucked under the sheets. 

“Hope the caregiver didn’t give you too much crap.” 

“Not more than usual,” Chloe said, turning to nod at something behind Max. “Hey, mind doing something for me? There’s something I wanted to look up.” 

“More concerts?” 

“Too tired right now for that. Morphine’s coming in strong--and I’m not exactly in my wheelchair, am I?” 

Max made her way to the computer, moving the mouse to stop the screensaver, revealing the Youtube homepage again. 

“Okay, what do you want me to look up for you?” Max asked as she navigated to Google’s homepage. 

“The Cosmic Microwave Background cold spot.” 

Max diligently typed it in. “Uh, is this some New Age hippy thing?” 

“What?” Chloe laughed from the bed. “No! God, no. It’s science.” Another pause as the ventilator gave her a fresh rush of air into her lungs. “The Cosmic Microwave Background is just left over light from the Big Bang.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“You ever hear of multiple timelines?” 

Max stopped mid-scroll through the first page of results. “The what and the _what?_ How much morphine did they put in you anyway?”

“Just enough to dull the pain and shit.” 

“So...explain. What does multiple timelines have to do with the--” she checked what she’d typed into the search box again “--cosmic microwave background cold spot?” 

“Long story,” Chloe said, followed by a pause as she waited for the ventilator to give her more air, “It’s to do with the cold spot.” 

“Oookay. And why should I care?” 

“News--cold spot bigger.” 

“Does this have something to do with your multiple timelines?” Max asked, immediately followed by, “All I can see are articles that say it’s either a trick of the light or something to do with voids or galaxy counts. Hang on…” Max stopped scrolling, reading what looked like a link to a news article. “Cold spot grows bigger, possible nudge from another universe?” 

“Yeah, that one,” Chloe said, sounding a lot fainter than before. Max turned around to look at her, seeing she was almost nodding off. 

“Chloe? Are you okay?” 

“Mmm-hmm, just sleepy.” 

“Do you want me to open the link in a new tab and just leave it for you tomorrow?” 

“Thanks, Max.” 

Max, intrigued nevertheless by the link, had a scroll through the article once it opened in its tab. Skimming through it, pretending to herself at least for now that she understood it, she gathered something about the “cold spot” “growing rapidly in size” and the anomalies in its data growing even more inexplicable. 

_Huh. This is more Chloe’s domain, obviously. I’m a photographer, not an astrophysicist._

Leaving the computer behind, Max returned to Chloe’s bedside, sitting down next to her. Chloe’s eyes were closed, her breathing regular, monitored by the ventilator. 

“Chloe?” Max whispered. “Are you asleep?” 

“Yeeah,” she mumbled, eyes flickering under her lids, “So, _so_ sleepy…” 

Max bit her lip, a relic childhood habit she _swore_ she’d kick one day. 

_Should she be this sleepy? Should I get William or Joyce?_

“Is it...normal for you to be this sleepy?” 

“Sorta...keeps pain from waking me up in the night.” 

“You sure?” 

“Max, I’m just...tired, okay?” Chloe snipped. “I need sleep.” 

_I can take a hint, I guess._

“I’ll leave you be then.” 

“Thanks.” 

Max got off the bed, deciding now was a good time to get in her own pyjamas and check her phone for any texts or calls she might have missed. No way she was going to leave her Seattle squad hanging without a word from her. 

Once pyjamas donned and teeth brushed, Max turned off the bedroom lights, and, cell phone light guiding the way, slipped between the blankets on the mattress laid out for her next to Chloe’s bed. Chloe was clearly in deep sleep, and Max could only hope that she was right about the morphine normally making her this tired, sending her into a slumber in minutes. 

_Hope she’s better in the morning._

Then again...Max felt pretty damn exhausted herself after the bus ride down from Seattle all day, and she could barely keep her eyes open after a few minutes of lying in the dark with only her cell phone and the glow of Chloe’s ventilator and computer the only sources of light in the room. Nevertheless, she forced her eyes to be open long enough to send a few back-and-forth texts to her friends, all having fun at various functions and events around Seattle while she was here in Arcadia Bay with Chloe. Part of her wanted to feel jealous of all the fun her friends were having, but a quieter, perhaps somewhat nostalgic, part of her was content to be here with Chloe. 

_Sure, no way she’s going to a rave for her birthday, but damn we’ll find a way to have fun no matter what. I’ll make sure of it._

* * *

Max awoke to loud birds chirping under Chloe’s window, sunlight filtering into the room, and a sense that she’d had a _very_ restful sleep. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Max pushed herself up from the pillows to a sitting position, spotting immediately what looked like a nurse or caregiver sitting in a chair at Chloe’s bedside, helping her with a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs. 

_Whoa, how long have I slept in?_

“Heey,” Max croaked out, groaning inside at how terrible she’d sounded, “What time is it?” 

Both nurse and Chloe turned to look at Max as the latter stood up, stretching her arms up to the ceiling. 

“Nine,” the nurse said in a curt voice. “I’m busy here. Now stop asking me questions, I need to concentrate.”

_Someone clearly missed their morning coffee. Hang on--it’s nine?!_

Chloe grinned at Max. “Pity I can’t take a photo right now of your face. You look horrified.” 

“What?” Max shook her head, “No, I just--I just can’t believe I slept that long.” 

“And I thought I slept like a log!” 

“Sorry, long trip up.” 

“Not to mention your rave last night.” 

“Come on, enough talking, more food.” 

_Wow._

“Sounds like someone’s missed their coffee this morning. Early shift?” 

The nurse pursed her lips. “Enough. Go get your own breakfast and let me do my job.” 

“Hey, no one kicks out my best friend while I’m here,” Chloe glared at the nurse, “You kick her out, I’ll refuse another bite.” 

“I’m just asking her to let us be.” 

“You’re being a bitch. Damn, at least offer her a good morning or a goddamn smile. You know what they say about the wind changing. Oh wait, it’s probably already done that, and that’s why you always have that expression.” 

_Damn, nurse. You pissed off Chloe. Good job._

“I’ll get my breakfast and come back,” Max said, giving Chloe a little appreciative grin and wink, “I’ll stay with you.” 

_No way I’m letting Chloe be alone with that nurse. Hope she has at least some...nicer caregivers and nurses. Would suck if they were the only ones looking after her._

Max returned several minutes later to Chloe’s room with her own plate of piping hot scrambled eggs and bacon in one hand, and a cup of coffee (for herself, not the nurse) in her other. Pointedly sitting down on another chair, her coffee set down on Chloe’s dresser next to the bed, Max settled her plate on her knees and began eating. 

_Bacon and eggs: the_ only _real breakfast._

As Max tucked into her breakfast, Chloe finished her own, helped by the nurse, who then cleared away the dishes, disappearing into the kitchen. 

“So, what’s the big plan for the day?” Chloe asked, turning her head to gaze at Max. “Nothing too strenuous, don’t think this is gonna be an energy-filled day.” 

“Oh...I’m sorry.” 

“Nah, don’t do that. It’s just--my energy comes and goes, you know. Better days, worse days. This is a meh day.” 

“Meh day?” 

“Average. Middle of the road. You know. Not gonna go zipping up and down Arcadia Bay in my wheelchair, but I wouldn’t say no to a nice venture just down the block either.” 

“What about your--” Max nodded at the IV drip. “Morphine thing?” 

“We manage it, somehow,” Chloe assured, “I’ll try not to be too boring.” 

Max shook her head, heart going out to Chloe. 

“No, Chloe, don’t say that, okay? You’re not boring.” 

“I’m certainly not dancing around either.” 

Max wanted to reassure her again, that it was really, truly okay, that she was never boring even unable to move, but then the nurse re-entered the room, all business, as she strode to Max, hands on hips. 

“Alright, you need to get out while we get Chloe ready for the day. You can go entertain yourself somewhere. Go watch a movie in the lounge.” 

“She can watch a movie here too,” Chloe said, “I already have a big-ass tv screen right there.” 

Max finished her breakfast, grabbing her half-finished coffee. “Actually I think I’m good to wait in the lounge to watch a movie or whatever.” 

“Thank you, much appreciated, girl.” 

A flicker of some emotion Max couldn’t quite read or catch in time swept through Chloe’s eyes, tugged at her mouth. 

“See you soon, then, Max. Looking forward to all our future adventures today.” 

_No way I can handle helping the nurse--or any other nurse--with getting Chloe in her wheelchair, much less to her bathroom._

And she hated herself for the discomfort at such a thought, the idea she should feel so uncomfortable helping Chloe with something as “simple” as getting into a wheelchair. 

* * *

It was nearly a full hour later when Chloe rolled out into the lounge area where Max was busy flicking through the channels as she lay on the couch, not paying much attention to whatever flickered past the screen.

_Nothing's on TV. How much longer?_

Finally, the door to Chloe's room opened, and no sooner did the front wheels of Chloe’s wheelchair appear past the door, then Max flicked off the TV, dumping the remote on the coffee table and leaping to her feet as her friend came to a stop before her.

“Looks like someone’s ready,” Max remarked as the nurse moved past behind Chloe to chat quietly with Joyce. 

“You’re still in your pyjamas, you lazy hipster,” Chloe pointed out with a nod at Max, “It’s past ten already.” 

“It’s Saturday,” Max protested, but stepped aside to place a hand on the door handle anyway, “I’m allowed to be lazy.” 

“Not _this_ lazy, come on, Max. Ten minutes or I zoom out the door without you.” 

“You are evil.” 

“I know,” Chloe said in a sing-song voice, “And I’m never saying sorry.” 

Max rolled her eyes in mock indignity. “Fine, be that way. Ten minutes for a shower and change of clothes, huh?” 

“Now more like nine minutes forty seconds, Maxilicious. Go on!” 

“Ay, ay, captain,” Max saluted Chloe and disappeared back into the bedroom. 

_Nine minutes and thirty seconds now…_

* * *

Max managed to get dressed and shower and brush her teeth in record time; true to her promise, Chloe was already halfway down the ramp when she caught up with her. 

“Chloe!” Max called after her, still wrestling one arm through her jacket. “I’m done!” 

Chloe brought her wheelchair to a stop at the bottom of the ramp, turning herself around to give Max an appraising look. 

“Ah, after a billion years, she is at last ready.” 

“It’s _Saturday_ , Chloe.” 

“Okay, okay,” Chloe laughed, “I get it already. It’s Saturday. So, what’s the plan? A little walk down the block? Sneaking into a 21-and-up-only concert?” 

“Dunno about the latter, but I know friends who can definitely cook up a very convincing ID card.” 

Chloe gave a long low whistle. “Damn, Max. You sure have an interesting lot of friends, don’t you?” 

“It’s Seattle, Chloe, everyone’s interesting.” 

Chloe pretended to pout. “More interesting than me? Thanks a lot, dude.” 

“Hey, you’re awesome and interesting all on your own, Chloe. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” 

“Interesting because I’m quadriplegic or interesting because I’m me?” 

“Because you’re you, of course. Now let’s get this show on the road.” Max paused. “We are so going to hunt down any glowy bears we can find in the wild.” 

“That’s a deal. Not that there’s many shops around here.” 

“You never know, Chloe.” 

“Hope you have your cell-phone on you just in case something happens.” 

Max looked around at her in alarm. “W-what do you mean?”

“Dude, it’ll be fine, nothing’s happened so far on my lone voyages,” Chloe said, “Okay, sometimes this stupid tubing pops off my trach tube or machine, but it’s easy putting it back in.” 

Max forced herself not to stare at the tube in her throat. “Does that happen often?” 

“Not that often--usually at some stupid hour like three in the morning, then the alarm goes off and my parents come out to check and fix it. It’s easy enough sticking it back, no problem.” 

_Would be my luck for that to happen today._

“Don’t look so terrified, Max, it’s not _that_ bad.” 

“And, I’d have thought at least one of your parents need to be with you on your “lone voyages”?” 

“I...have sneaked out once or twice, but it was all good.” Chloe began to move her chair down toward the footpath. “Come on, we can yap and roll.” 

Max hurried to catch up to Chloe, walking alongside her down the block, letting her guide the way. Wherever Chloe went, Max would follow, as long as nothing too dire happened along the way. She wasn’t exactly versed in first aid nor caregiving, and she knew she was way too clumsy to risk touching the battery-powered transportable ventilator machine packed at the back of Chloe’s wheelchair. 

“Sooo, where exactly are we going?” Max asked as they turned the corner at the end of the street. 

“Around the block--I think there’s a cute little shop up ahead--oh great,” Chloe came to a sudden halt, moving her wheelchair back a little. “I think my blanket’s caught under a wheel. Can you get it?” 

Max crouched in front of Chloe’s wheelchair, spotting that a corner of the orange blanket draped over her knees was, indeed, caught under a wheel. Tugging it out from its captivity, Max tucked it up under Chloe’s foot, making sure the strap was fastened over her foot properly before standing up again. 

“Thanks, Max. Okay, I think it’s this way.” 

Max strode alongside Chloe’s chair, tugging her jacket’s zip higher as the wind nipped at her face and clawed its way under her clothes. She glanced over at Chloe, who was wrapped up well, with the blanket over her legs, gloves on her hands, thick socks under her shoes, and a gorgeous red scarf around her neck. While she had several layers of tops on, Max wondered if she would still be warm enough, even if she couldn’t feel any difference. 

“Hey, Chloe? Stupid question, but...how do you know if you’re getting cold?” 

“My nose knows so,” Chloe said with a quick smile up at Max. 

“But what about the rest of you? How do you know you don’t need a jacket?” 

Chloe turned her head, raising an eyebrow. “Are you about to offer me your jacket?” 

“I was just wondering.” 

“Huh, coulda sworn you were flirting with me for a second there,” Chloe remarked, tilting her head with a little smile at Max. 

“Your nose isn’t cold yet, right?” 

“Nah, I’m good. Maybe just a little, but still all good.” Chloe slowed down until they stopped in front of a shop, and her face immediately fell. 

“Damn it.” Chloe sounded positively dejected. “They had some cool punk stuff in there, but of course it isn’t accessible. No one ever thinks about us, but why would they?” 

_Well...this is awkward. What do I say to that?_

“I...I’m sorry,” Max said, “That really sucks.” 

Chloe hmphed, frowning deeply, faint lines appearing between her eyebrows. “It’s always the same around here, Max. It’s like we don’t exist, and even if they know we do, what do they care?” 

Max, taken aback by Chloe’s sudden sour mood, couldn’t find an answer, unsettled by the bitterness in her words. 

“We..we can find somewhere else to go?” Max suggested, stopping when Chloe shot her a hot glare. 

“No, Max, we can’t! It’s the same everywhere, you don’t get it, okay?! Steps, steps, steps anywhere I go and not a ramp in sight. No one cares enough to change shit for disabled people! It’s like we’re not important enough for anyone--”

“Chloe! You’re important to _me._ ” 

“I don’t see _you_ building ramps and changing the world! Don’t think I haven’t noticed how uncomfortable you are around me when I have to be attended to. Anyone would be. Uncomfortable enough not to build a simple ramp.” 

“Chloe--” 

“I think I’ll just go back home. Take a look in the shop if you want, but I’m going. Don’t bother following me.” 

“Wait, Chloe, just--”

But Chloe had zoomed off, her wheelchair going at its top speed. Max ran a hand through her hair, looking from Chloe to the shop and back. 

_Should I go after her? What if something happens to her? Her house is only just around the corner, but still... Her mom is home anyway. I should…_

Max could have taken off at a run, but she had no idea if she’d ever catch up to Chloe, who was obviously now very pissed off, and probably wouldn’t appreciate her chasing her down. 

_Maybe I can call her house--tell Joyce Chloe’s returning._

Max took out her cell-phone, eyes constantly flicking between the phone in her hands and Chloe in the distance--she didn’t seem to be in distress or slowing down any time soon. 

“Max, what’s wrong?” 

Max startled as Joyce’s voice crackled into her ear. 

“Oh--Chloe’s zooming back home--she just..got really angry when she saw her favourite shop around the corner had steps instead of a ramp.” 

“How far away is she?” 

“Just around the corner from yours. I swear, I’d run after her if I could, but--” 

Max could hear what sounded like running footsteps and a door opening on Joyce’s end, followed by a sudden crackly noise over the phone. 

“Uh, you still there, Joyce?” 

“I just went outside to have a look,” Joyce explained, “I’m right by the mailbox--which way should I look?” 

“Your left if you’re facing the mailbox.” 

“Hmm...oh wait, I see her now. She does seem…” 

“Yeah. Her mood changed super fast.” 

“I’m sorry, Max. I’m sure it’s not your fault at all. Chloe gives us a lot of trouble sometimes, even the nurses, believe me. You’re not the only one.” 

“I’ll...stay at the shop for a bit--see if I can find something to surprise Chloe for her eighteenth tomorrow.” 

“Oh Max, that’s very sweet of you.” 

“Text me soon as she gets home, I want to know she’s safe.” 

“I will. See you later.” 

With that, Joyce hung up on her end, and Max replaced her cell-phone in her jacket pocket, making her way up the steps into the small shop full of very punk items from bracelets to posters to action figures to racks of cds. Lined up along one wall were several pairs of boots with studs and straps that she knew Chloe would love to wear. 

_She did love to stomp around in her boots…_

As Max browsed the shop goods, declining an offer of help from a store person along the way, she could see it wasn’t exactly a place brimming with customers; there were at most about seven other people here, if that. She spun a necklace stand around, trying to make up her mind whether it was okay for Chloe to wear a necklace, especially with her tube. Max fingered a chain necklace with three brass bullets, wondering if it was something Chloe might wear. 

_Nah. She’s totally a pacifist. She’d hate anything to do with guns or bullets._

Wandering along, Max browsed a box of bracelets, pulling out a thin black one with little studs on it, glinting in the little bit of light coming into the shop. 

_This seems more Chloe. She’ll like this. Hope it won’t be too small to fit over her wrist._

Turning around, Max stopped as she caught sight of a small glowy bear wearing an eye mask with a sort of punk aesthetic--the perfect present for Chloe. 

_I can get this bracelet and that bear and I’ll have Chloe’s eighteenth birthday present sorted. Fuck yeah, Max, you’re doing good._

“Hey,” Max flagged down a store person who came sauntering to her as she grabbed the glowing bear, “Do you do gift wrap or anything? It’s for a friend’s eighteenth tomorrow.” 

“You’re in luck, today’s our free gift wrapping day,” the store person answered with a grin and huge wink, “I’ll be happy to do it for you at the counter.” 

A few minutes later, a satisfied Max exited the store, her only thought now for Chloe, safe back at home, according to the promised text from Joyce. 

_Chloe’s going to love these. Hope she feels better soon._

* * *

Back at the Price residence, Max made a beeline straight down the hallway to Chloe’s door, knocking on it. 

“Chloe? Are you in there?” 

There was a muffled response from somewhere in the room beyond the closed door. 

Max opened the door just enough to spot Chloe at her computer. “Can I come in?” 

“Sure.” 

Max decided to take the flat, one-word response as invitation enough, and entered the bedroom, closing the door behind her, walking to place the bag of goods next to her backpack. She sensed a little bit of tension still hanging between herself and Chloe, even as Max pulled a chair over to sit down next to her. She sat there for a few seconds, waiting for Chloe to tell her to go away or at least not sit so near, but it seemed she was fine with Max’s proximity, ignoring her in favour of reading the article on the growing cold spot on the Cosmic Microwave Background. 

“Chloe?” 

Chloe sniffled in response, pulling away from her mouth-operated joystick, leaning her head back on the headrest. 

“Sorry, dude. I shouldn’t have taken my bullshit rage out on you before. I suck.” 

“Hey, you’re allowed to vent.” 

A heavy sigh, Chloe rolling her head toward Max, eyes slightly red from crying. “One of those days, Max.” 

“A shitty Saturday full of shit?” 

A little snort from Chloe. “You could say that. You ever get stupid intrusive thoughts that won’t fucking go away and leave you alone?” 

Max crinkled her forehead, worried. “What do you mean?” 

“It’s stupid. It’s just...I keep asking why me, why did I have to end up in a wheelchair. Why me, and not that prick. It’s like the universe hates me.” 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“I know.” 

“And your parents love you so much, that’s important too.” 

“It’s the same thoughts in my head again and again. Why me--I had _so much_ to live for--and the world doesn’t care about people with disabilities. Not enough.” 

“That...sucks a lot.” 

“I just wanted to visit my favourite punk shop again, and that--the steps just set me off. I hope you at least got something decent there.” 

Max allowed the smallest of smiles, eyes locking with Chloe’s. “I promise you, you’ll love it, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” 

“You’re leaving tomorrow.” 

“After breakfast, yeah, school demands me back. Gross.” 

“At least you can go to school. Blackwell kicked me out. Couldn’t be bothered with accessibility, and made up bullshit excuses why they couldn’t.” 

Max’s jaw dropped open. “You’re _kidding_.” 

“You think I’d joke about this?” 

“No! No way. I just-- _wow._ Someone’s ass needs kicking at that school. They couldn’t even let you do stuff via distance?” 

“Nah. Just said hey, you could always go clean across this godforsaken country and go to some other school with disabled access. Yeah right. Like we have the money for that. I’m sure that Marisa girl and her mother are happy I’m not there. Ugh.” 

“You know what? Fuck them. Fuck Blackwell. You’re Chloe fucking Price, and you’re amazing. They’re full of shit, and don’t know what they’re missing out on, treating you like this. You’re smarter than all of them combined. I wish I had like a fifth of your smarts, seriously. You’ve come this far, and you’re fighting every bit of the way.” 

“Can’t be good fighting if I want to give up sometimes.” 

“Just pick your ass back up and keep going, as one of my friends would say. We’re going to be awesome--not that we already aren’t.” 

Chloe’s face softened, any remaining anger leaving her face as she gazed at Max with a sad smile. Without thinking, Max laid a hand on Chloe’s, followed a second later by a thought reminding her Chloe couldn’t feel it. But she ignored that errant nagging thought and instead leaned her head on Chloe’s shoulder, Chloe leaning her cheek on top of her head, Max’s heart fluttering a little when she felt a little kiss dropped in her hair. She didn’t dare move too much, wanting to let Chloe lean on her as long as she needed to--not that Max minded staying here for the rest of the day if it ended up that way. Just feeling Chloe so close to her was enough for Max, knowing that no matter what, they at least had each other. 

_Fuck everyone who bailed on you, Chloe, you deserved so much better than those so-called “friends”. I’m here, and that should be more than enough._

* * *

The remainder of Saturday swung past surprisingly fast, with Chloe introducing Max to all her favourite websites and introducing her to her little group chat on some site called Hawt Wheels. Chloe denied it was a dating site at all, and Max was surprised at a twinge of relief on hearing that. 

_Okay, no idea where the hell that came from…_

Nevertheless, despite the rocky start to the day, everything else thereafter went relatively smoothly, Chloe wearying a little earlier, but still not so much she couldn’t at least attempt to explain to Max about the cold spot and the cosmic microwave background, until she had no choice but to take a long nap in the bed, once she’d been lifted back on it with the help of Joyce and Max. 

_Should she be_ this _light?_ Max had found herself wondering with a little alarm when helping Chloe onto the bed. _Shit.  
_

It seemed no sooner had Chloe been comfortably situated on the bed, with a couple blankets pulled over the top of her, then she was out like a light, her expression so calm and peaceful that Max couldn’t look away. 

_How the hell have I missed how gorgeous she is?_

A little part of her wanted to give her a little kiss on the lips, just to feel how soft and warm they were, but Max resisted. 

_No. No kissing sleeping people who cannot give their consent. Even if that person is your best friend._

Instead, she settled on brushing back Chloe’s soft hair from her face. 

“See you later, Chloe,” she whispered, before quietly withdrawing from the room to let her have her much-needed rest. 

Saturday night was just as relaxed, a quiet, sleepy ending to Chloe’s last day of being seventeen--an age, she told Max, she was rather happy to leave. 

“Basically, it sucked ass. Except for you and your letters and goods. Thanks, Max.” 

And with that, Chloe fell asleep for the last time as a seventeen year old. 

* * *

The next morning, just as the sun began filtering golden rays through the window, Max quietly sat up on her mattress, turning her head to check if Chloe was still fast asleep. One glance at that sweet face turned toward her, eyes closed, told her that she was--how deep in slumber, Max wasn’t sure, but enough that she could get up and fetch her birthday present from the corner. 

But no sooner had she bent down to grab the goods, then she heard Chloe speaking from the bed. 

“Maaax, I can hear you stomping around.” 

“Hey, I’m not _stomping_ ,” she protested, walking back over with the present. “I was _trying_ to be quiet.” 

Chloe’s eyes were still closed, but a grin broke out on her lips. “You’re not as quiet as you think.” 

Max put the shopping bag on the floor, reaching in to take out the little bear and the bracelet, unwrapping them, letting the wrapping paper fall to the floor.

“Keep your eyes closed, Chloe, until I say you can open them.” 

“Sure, Max.” 

Max carefully set the glowy bear and bracelet before Chloe, where she would see them right away, a surprise for her eighteenth. 

“Okay, Chloe, open your eyes,” Max murmured, “Happy birthday.” 

“Or as happy as it can be while I’m like this.” 

“Chloe…” 

Chloe’s eyes fluttered open, blue eyes slowly wandering to the bear and bracelet, lighting up with a sparkle of joy, her slow, gentle smile broadening up to the corners of her eyes. 

“How’d you know I wanted exactly these?” 

“It’s the powers of best friendship,” Max swept back Chloe’s bangs with a hand. “So, watcha think?” 

“It’s _perfect_.” 

“Would you like me to put the bracelet on you now?” 

“After I’m readied for the day, sure. I’ll let only you put it on for me.” 

“I’ll try to be careful.” 

“Honestly, Max,” Chloe said with a little sigh, “I’m not going to break, okay? Still love you anyway.” 

“How’re you feeling this morning?” 

“Amazing now that the first thing I see as an eighteen year old is your cute freckly face, and your awesome present.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

Chloe shut her eyes tight with a grimace, letting her head fall back on the pillows. “ _Fuck._ I need more morphine right now.” 

Max quickly slipped off the bed, placing the bear and bracelet on the nearest surface where Chloe could still see them. 

“Should I get your parents?” 

“Yeah...that’ll be great. And get mom to start making breakfast.” 

“What’ll it be?” 

“What do you _think?_ Pancakes, of course.” 

“And pancakes it shall be.” 

“Stacks of pancakes. Enough--shit, it hurts to talk--enough for an army.” 

“Got it. Pancakes and painkillers for breakfast.” 

* * *

Eventually, Chloe was settled back on her pillows, freshly injected with more painkillers, the smell of pancakes cooking in the kitchen wafting into the bedroom. 

“Oh man, those smell so good,” Chloe remarked as William entered, balancing two plates of pancakes in his hands, passing one to Max. 

“Thanks, I missed Joyce’s pancakes,” Max commented, more than ready to tuck in to her share. 

“Still as good as ever,” Chloe assured, smiling over at Max. “Don’t try and steal my share, will you?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

A peaceful lull, the sort found only in the early morning when the sun is still low over the horizon, gently fading from gold to white, fell over the room as Max and Chloe had their breakfast. A blue jay alighted on the window sill, chirping away at the world around it. It was only when Max’s attention was drawn to the blue jay outside then it clicked why it looked so different out in the backyard. 

_Oh my god...the swing’s gone. At least she still has our board we drew on as kids, and she can see it from this window._

“Hey,” Max turned to see Chloe had spotted her wandering attention, “You okay over there?” 

“Just noticed that your swing had been taken down.” 

“Yeah, I asked dad to do that,” Chloe said, “It got a bit much seeing it every time I looked outside.” 

“Oh...that’s a shame. I’m sorry.” 

“Anyway,” Chloe said, before accepting another forkful of pancake, continuing to speak through her mouthful, “Thanks Max for being here.” 

Max paused in the middle of soaking her forkful of pancake in syrup, gazing at Chloe. 

_Have her eyes always been that blue? Or is it just the early morning light?_

“Hey, you know I had to see you again.” 

Chloe swallowed her mouthful of pancake. “Wish you visited more often though.” 

“I swear, I would, if only I wasn’t in the prison known as school.” 

“Lucky for some. At least you can still attend.” 

“It’s really not all that,” Max shrugged, “What matters are the kick-ass friends I have there. Not that you’re not a kick-ass friend too.” 

“Nice save there, Max.” 

“Really, Chloe, you’ve always kicked ass.” 

“An ass-kicking robot leg would be even better.” 

“I’ll see if I can find one just for you. Seattle’s a big place.” 

Chloe laughed, resting her head back on the pillows, finished with her breakfast. 

“Let me know when you find one.” 

“Right away, Captain Chloe.” 

* * *

The hour to return to Seattle via bus approached far too fast for Max, seeing her hurrying into the bathroom upstairs to have a shower, change into a fresh set of clothes, brush her teeth, wash her face, and apply a little bit of make-up to her face before having to part with Chloe for who knew how long. 

_Man, I’m gonna miss her. If only I could have stayed a day longer. Sucks that I have to leave so soon on her eighteenth._

Even though Chloe had reassured her as Max had gathered her things that she’d made her eighteenth worth it just by being there for the last couple nights, she still felt a twinge of guilt. Like she was abandoning her again for Seattle, leaving her all alone without anyone else to visit for her birthday. 

_At least she has loving parents to keep her company. Then again, they’re still parents…_

Done in the bathroom, Max made her way downstairs, knocking on Chloe’s door, only for it to be opened by a cheery young nurse who quickly apologised. 

“Sorry, we’re a little busy getting Chloe ready for the day. Give it another twenty or thirty minutes okay?” 

“Sure,” Max said, taking out her cell-phone to check for messages, “I’ll be happy to wait.” 

Max turned around and stepped back in surprise as she saw Joyce had approached from behind her, waiting for her. 

“Oh, Joyce, sorry--did you say something?” 

“I wanted to ask if you’d help me with cutting Chloe’s cake--you can take some home for yourself too once you’re ready to go.” 

“Are you sure?” Max asked. 

“Chloe would insist,” Joyce said as she led Max into the kitchen where a chocolate cake was sitting freshly baked on the counter, “She’d want you to enjoy as much as you would like. Go on, cut some for yourself, the plastic wrapping’s right there on the counter for you to use. I’m going to check on Chloe--but I’ll be right back when she’s ready.”

Max glanced quickly at the time displayed on her cell-phone. “I’ll have to get to the bus in about half an hour.” 

“It’s okay, you’ll have time to say goodbye to Chloe.” 

Assured of one last goodbye to Chloe before returning to Seattle, Max took up the knife and began to carve out her share of the cake, listening to the quiet chatter of the channel on the small TV in the lounge. 

_Can’t believe I’m going back to Seattle already. Back to partying and weed and Kristin and Esther and tourist traps and all that good shit._

The chunk of chocolate cake was already safely tucked away in her bag, five minutes to spare until she had to get to the bus, when Joyce finally came back out of Chloe’s bedroom. 

“Max, you can go in and say goodbye to Chloe now.” 

And there Chloe was, waiting for Max in her wheelchair, smiling up at her in that sweet way she did. 

_How can I go when she smiles like that at me?_

“Hey Chloe, afraid it looks like I’m gonna have to love you and leave you,” Max said, stopping before the wheelchair. 

_How do you hug someone in a wheelchair? Especially if they're your best friend._

“Hope that leaving is only temporary, mad Max, you _better_ come back.” 

“I will,” Max said, hoping she could hold on to that promise. “I uh…” 

_Omigod, Max, you shouldn’t have to feel so awkward asking if you can hug Chloe!_

“What’s up, hippie?” 

“Canihugyou?” 

Chloe blinked at her, tilting her head askance. “Say that again, but slower.” 

“I want to give you a hug, but…” 

“You better give me one, or I’ll cry,” Chloe threatened, but her eyes danced with hope and playfulness. “Careful, I might make you hug me forever, so you’ll miss the bus and you’ll never leave me. For reals.” 

_Okay, here goes nothing, amirite._

Max bent her knees so she wasn’t towering as much over Chloe, leaning in to wrap her arms around her shoulders, gently tugging her forward, praying fervently she wouldn’t yank her out of the wheelchair, despite the two belts wrapped around her. Chloe’s little sigh of contentment tickled against the side of Max’s face as she leaned her head forward to rest her forehead on Max’s shoulder. Max closed her eyes as she held on to Chloe, letting herself dwell in the warm closeness of her best friend, the way her hair smelled of fresh shampoo, the feel of her soft green scarf under her fingers, the gentle weight of her head on her shoulder. 

_Actually...I_ could _stay like this forever._

Max let one of her hands slide up to cup the back of Chloe’s head, scratching her scalp gently, soft hair tickling her fingers, hearing a little “mmm” followed by a sigh. 

“Damn Max, don’t stop doing that.” 

“I’ll keep in touch, Chloe,” Max whispered, eyes still closed, “I’ll do my best, I swear.” 

“I know you will.” 

Much as she wished she could stay in this amazing moment forever, Max eventually, and reluctantly, parted the embrace, helping settle Chloe back against the wheelchair again, quickly looking down to check the seatbelts were still in place, and was relieved to see they looked intact. Her hands slipped away from Chloe’s shoulders, straightening up to her full height once again. 

“Looks like it’s time to part ways, Captain Chloe. See you when I see you, huh?” 

“You better,” Chloe said, smiling widely, even despite the sadness in her eyes, “The time’s gone by so fast.” 

Max’s attention was diverted right then by a knock at the door, followed by Joyce pushing it ajar to address her. 

“Max, it’s time to go.” 

_This is it, then. So long, Arcadia Bay, hello again, Seattle._


	4. 2012 (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows Max through the remainder of March on up to the day after her seventeenth birthday, when she finds out from Chloe--who sounds even worse for wear than when Max had heard her last--that a new photography class is coming to Blackwell Academy in Arcadia Bay in 2013.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowsers, yet another long-ass chapter that took me at least two weeks of blood, sweat, and tears to write. This beast smashed the 11k mark when finished, and even after revision.
> 
> Also HEADS UP: I will be going away from my computer (and thus my writing) for at least a week or so next Tuesday, and then university gets back into full swing (two labs in a row twice a week, five hours non-stop to boot, yay me (not)), so don't be surprised if the next couple chapters (or three) come at a slightly slower rate.
> 
> Anyway, see you all in 2013 in the next chapter, with plenty more Pricefield on the horizon!

Seattle felt both strange and familiar, alien and not alien, as Max resettled into her usual routine and day-to-day life back in the big city. Her friends had grilled her for every little detail about her time with Chloe, and Max had obliged, noting in particular her awesome dancing to her friend’s favourite punk rock tunes, and the awesome presents she had found for her in the weekend, including the glowy bear and punk bracelet. 

“That’s so inspiring how she can still enjoy her favourite music even despite her suffering,” Elaine commented, “I don’t know how I’d do it.” 

“Chloe doesn’t let anything stop her.” 

“That’s so amazing--I’d totally do a whole cheerleading just for her in celebration of how brave she is.” 

Fernando nodded at Elaine. “And maybe a marathon or something in her honour,” Fernando added, now addressing Max, “I’m sure she’s adorable as well.” 

“Adorable as in gorgeous-adorable--because she  _ is _ \--or cute adorable?” Max asked. 

Elaine cut off Fernando’s response with her own. “Cute adorable. As in sweet and endearing.” 

“I feel like Chloe’s going to be fine without you guys running marathons or being all cutesy,” Max found herself saying, “She’s strong all on her own, disability or not.” 

Both Elaine and Fernando stared at her in a mix of bemusement and surprise. 

“Wow, what happened to you, Max?” Elaine remarked. “I didn’t think you’d be all about stopping people being inspired by wheelchair-bound people.” 

Max raised her eyebrows. “I’m not stopping any of you.” 

“You told us to not do marathons--”

“That’s not what I meant--”

“Then what did you mean?” Fernando asked, before taking a long gulp from his soda, finishing it off with a burp. “We want to show how much we love her.” 

“Really, guys, Chloe’s…” 

“Oh come on, Max,” Kristin said with an impatient eyeroll, “I know you want us to do this, right? Friends help other friends’ friends, right?” 

“And there’s nothing  _ wrong  _ with being inspired, is there?” Fernando pushed.

“Nothing wrong with a new cheerleading routine,” Elaine added, “Especially in honour of Chloe and other people like her stuck in wheelchairs. You of all people should know this, camera and all.” 

Max took a moment to consider Elaine’s points, pushing her finished lunch away from her, slouching back in her chair. 

_ She’s not wrong--I do get inspiration all the time, right? And why shouldn’t Elaine get inspired for new cheerleading routines? Or Fernando to do fundraising marathons? Maybe they mean well.  _

“Yeah...she’s definitely inspiring,” Max concurred, forcing an agreeable nod and smile, “Inspiring enough to get up there and do a round of cheerleading.” 

“Yes!” Elaine crowed, pumping her arms up in the air. “I knew you’d come around! Gonna find some music and a good routine! I’ll record it, put it up on Youtube, and you can send it to Chloe!” 

“Sure, she’d love that,” Max said, hoping she put enough conviction in her words. 

“Awesome! On it, even now!” 

“Ugh, bet it still sucks to be stuck in a wheelchair,” Fernando commented, “I’d want out of there.” 

“Wouldn’t it be awesome though, to have a wheelchair?” Kristin said. “I mean, like one of those motorised wheelchairs. Just go zoom, zoom everywhere.” 

“Yeah, I guess it would be,” Max agreed, “Would be nice being able to just go wherever you want.” 

“I’m too lazy to walk everywhere, honestly,” Elaine lamented, “I would totally get one just so I can run over slow old couples on the street.” 

“Though I wouldn’t want to be confined to it,” Fernando insisted, “I’d rather be able to get up any time.” 

Right then, Esther joined their table, dumping her plate down with a loud thunk, followed by the chair scraping hard against the floor. 

“So, talking about wheelchairs, huh?” she guessed. 

Kristin now turned to her, pointing her fork in Esther’s direction. “You’d want one too, right? It’d be so fun.” The fork turned to point at Max. “She agrees too. It’d be so easy to get around.” 

Esther raised an eyebrow. “Really, guys?” 

“What? What’s wrong with that?” 

“Omigod, you’re not going to moralise at us again,” Max criticised, though her heart wasn’t a hundred percent in it. “Like why is wanting to have a wheelchair just to get around easier such a problem?” 

“It’s privilege,” Esther began, “Able-bodied privilege. Ever hear of that?” She looked around at four blank faces. “Huh, didn’t think so.” 

“My family doesn’t have a TV and my parents spend all their pay on useless junk,” Kristin said, “Yep. Totally privileged life.” 

“No, not that kind--the fact you’re able to walk around and have control over where you can go and when. That kind. Able-bodied.” 

“Why is that such a bad thing?” Max asked. 

_ I’m so over this already. _

Esther blew out a sigh, slumping back in her seat. “Oh, forget it. Go educate yourselves.” 

Fernando shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said dryly. 

“Me too,” Kristin added. 

“Me three,” said Elaine, “I think I’m happy looking up new cheerleader moves and writing my cheerleader AU fanfics for Harry Potter.” 

“So, Esther,” Max nudged her. “Uh, care to tell us all about why it’s so bad we can walk?” 

Esther swallowed her mouthful of food. “It’s not that it’s  _ bad  _ that we can walk, Max, it’s just the privilege that comes with it.” She shovelled another forkful of lunch in her mouth, continuing to talk around. It. “You take things for granted because you are able-bodied. That make sense?” 

Kristin poked Max in the shoulder, shooting Esther an eyeroll. “Stop encouraging her, will you? She’s just being an SJW as usual.” 

“No, not really,” Esther said, “Times, they’re a’changin’.” 

“Ookay then,” Max responded after an awkward silence from all, “But seriously, I don’t really care to hear about this privilege stuff.” 

“So, how was Chloe?” Esther asked. 

“A champion as usual. She’s definitely a lot more upbeat than last time I’d seen her.” 

“She’s an inspiration,” Kristin said, cutting her words off with a glance at Esther when the latter made loud, not subtle in the least, gagging noises. “Do you need the Heimlich maneuver over there?” 

“No thank you,” Esther said, “It’s...ugh. I can’t be bothered today.” 

With that, Esther pushed back her chair, took her plate, and left the table, everyone staring after her as she huffed off. 

“Wow,” Max breathed, “What’s up with her?” 

“Dunno,” Elaine said, “Don’t care. Whatevs. Lunch isn’t gonna eat itself.” 

With that, everyone tucked back into their lunches, Esther’s moralising and stalking off forgotten in no time. The topic of wheelchairs and why it’d be so cool to have one to just go everywhere without needing to walk, was quickly also left behind in favour of chatting about cheerleading, hot boys (and girls), the latest fashion, and who had the good stuff for the next party on the town. 

Only Max seemed to care at all about what Esther had said. 

_ Able-bodied privilege, huh. What the hell is that and why does it matter so much to Esther, and what does it have to do with Chloe? _

* * *

It wasn’t that Max was normally paranoid about her web browser history or anything, but she still pulled up Google in Incognito mode on the slim off-chance that Kristin or Fernando or even Elaine might for some unknown, wacky reason suddenly want to look through her history on her laptop. But either way, Google was up and doing the work for her, showing her several articles explaining able-bodied privilege right from the get-go.

Digging in to the first couple of results, she balked on sight at the giant lists of ways abled people had privilege over disabled folks, especially those in wheelchairs. Overloaded with all the checklists, Max nearly exited out of the window entirely, unable to face having to read how crappy people who didn’t have a disability were. 

_ I’m not a bad person.  _

A strong sense of resentment dug into Max’s psyche as she stared at the opened tabs.

_ Just because I can walk doesn’t make me an evil bitch.  _

Pushing her laptop away, Max leaned her chin on her hand, staring off across her room at a framed picture of herself and Chloe when they were younger, when everything was okay, when they knew no unfairness in the world. 

_ Am I really an asshole just because I can  _ walk? 

She thought back to the entire weekend with Chloe, examining every little interaction and event from their time together with great scrutiny. Max couldn’t think for the life of her when Chloe ever got mad at her or called her out on some bullshit or other, even though she was exactly the kind of person who would. 

_ She did get pissed off at the stairs… _

_ “You don’t have to worry about being able to access places,”  _ one bulletpoint on a website had stated,  _ “You take the stairs without a second thought. You would be surprised by how few places have ramps and elevators large enough for a motorised wheelchair.”  _

Now that Max thought about it, she had rarely, if ever, seen a ramp at all in all her traverses around Seattle and elsewhere. If a place had a ramp--and she couldn’t for the life of her remember any place that had one in a prominent location--Max and co. tended to take advantage of it and walk up that rather than the stairs. 

Leaving her laptop behind, Max got up to hurry to the bathroom, realising how badly she was busting, having held it all in since before lunch. As she used the bathroom, another sentence from one of the blogs she’d seen came back to her:

_ “You can be sure that no one else is using your disabled bathroom stall because they were “too lazy” to use the normal bathroom.”  _

Max and her friends had, on more than one occasion, used a disabled bathroom just to hang out and secretly smoke pot; that said, they had been caught and roundly banned from the last building they had tried that in. 

_ Sometimes we’re fucking busting like hell, and why not use it if it’s closer?  _

It wasn’t like she ever saw anyone use it anyway, at least not anyone in a wheelchair or using crutches or whatever. And besides, she’d spotted people  _ clearly  _ not in a wheelchair or otherwise disabled use it too, and no one seemed to care one way or the other. 

_ Everyone else does it, so why does it matter if I do it too? _

As she washed her hands, another point from the lists came back to her: 

_ “You can be assured of privacy when using the bathroom.”  _

She thought again of Chloe, unable to even wash herself, let alone use the restroom on her own terms and with dignity and privacy, like other people. She couldn’t even enjoy the bliss of a warm shower on a chilly winter morning, or a nice perfumed bathe in the golden hour of autumn. She could be wrapped up like a human burrito in the softest, fluffiest, warmest bathroom towel in the universe, and she wouldn’t feel a thing. All she had to look forward to now was caregivers giving her a cold, clinical wash down and clean up, without much fuss or dawdling. 

_ Holy fuck. Why is it every time I think about Chloe, it just gets...sadder?  _

Max jerked her hands back with a hiss of pain when the tap-water suddenly ran really hot without warning. Turning off the tap, she quickly dried off her hands with a towel and returned to her bedroom, flopping onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

_ “You are not turned into an inspiration for others to feel better, just for doing ordinary, everyday things.”  _

Whatever the hell that meant. Weren’t all disabled people who overcame their challenges inspiring in some way? Chloe being able to use a mouth-operated joystick or her wheelchair was inspiring in itself, was it not? Or how she was still alive and fighting after a year was inspiring--nothing wrong with that, right? 

_ “You can be sure people will talk to you directly and not to your caregiver, friend, or family member like you’re not there.”  _

_ But what if that person was deaf?  _ Max wondered.  _ They wouldn’t be able to hear a thing, so...makes sense, right? And if they can’t speak themselves for some reason, it makes sense.  _

Max pulled up her legs, tapping her feet on her quilt as she continued to think about all this ableism stuff, unable to see why it was so bad that she wasn’t disabled. 

_ “Your life is seen as one worth living; better to be dead than disabled.”  _

_ I’d rather be dead than in Chloe’s place, but then who’d  _ want  _ to be paralysed like that?  _

To be quite frank, waking up completely paralysed was one of her worst fears, and Max couldn’t even begin to fathom what it was like for Chloe the first time she had woken up in hospital after the accident. And yet, she still powered on like the fighter she always was. 

_ Maybe these people are just too sensitive. Like Esther.  _

Yeah, that was it. She wasn’t the bad guy just because she could walk anywhere, hear, or see. Maybe her friends were right--they were definitely the SJW types that took offense to all the things, and needed to chill out and relax and see that not everyone was out to get them. 

_ I’m doing fine, I’m not an asshole just because I don’t need a wheelchair or crutches. Relax, my peeps, life’s too short.  _

* * *

Esther didn’t come back to lunch the next day, or the day after that, Max and her friends waiting until two weeks before deciding that  _ something  _ was up. Sure, they’d seen her in the same cafeteria at lunch-time, but she would always pointedly move to the farthest table away from them as possible. She didn’t really talk to them much in the hallways, in classes, or between classes, other than a quick acknowledging greeting and some exchanges of pleasantries as needed to keep them appeased in the knowledge that at least she was  _ talking  _ to them, and not completely blowing them off. 

Kristin didn’t think it was that much of a loss, really. 

“Who needs someone like her lecturing us all the time on how terrible it is to be able-bodied? It’s so  _ lame _ .” Kristin said, before adding, “Get it? Lame?” 

Max didn’t think it was  _ that  _ great (or even funny) a “pun”, certainly not hilarious enough to snort milkshake up one’s nose and start coughing on it like Fernando. 

“No big loss to us,” Elaine agreed, “She can’t even have fun anymore. She’s acting so... _ old. _ ”

“Sixteen going on sixty,” Max added as she pulled her chicken wing apart, leaving the skin on Fernando’s plate, knowing he’d nom it all right up. “That’s Esther, alright.” 

“You’re smart,” Kristin approved, “We don’t need to listen to any of that crap. We want to have fun and we’re not hurting anyone, right? I mean, it’s not like we’re flipping wheelchairs and laughing at them when they can’t get up.”

“Not that we’d do that to your friend, Max!” Elaine added hastily. “Still tidying up the moves.” 

“The moves?” 

“The cheerleader routine?” 

_ Oh...right. Forgot about that.  _

“Anyway,” Kristin added loudly, “We totally should go try out my new rollerblades this weekend. Hey, Elaine, cheerleading on rollerblades!” 

_ Rollerblading!  _

“Omigod, I have a pair of rollerblades at home I got last year on a whim, but never used them,” Max said, “We totally should do it together!” 

_ Another selfie op to send to Chloe, me and my own set of wheels!  _

Kristin slapped her hands on the table. “Sold! Rollerblading this weekend, it is! And we can go to that indoor swimming pool nearby, just on wheel power alone.” 

“Oh sweet,” Max said. “And I totally need to dive off the highest board there.” 

Fernando gave her a quizzical look. “Why?” 

_ For Chloe,  _ Max answered internally.  _ Finally do that dare from years ago. _

Out loud, she said, “Because I want to show you guys how to epically fail at diving.” 

An awkward little beat of silence, before Fernando shrugged. “Oookay then, Max.” 

_ It’s gonna be a belly flop to end all belly flops, but hey, at least I won’t chicken out this time.  _

* * *

The weekend of rollerblading and diving indoors came around quick, the four friends eager to start their day with a spate of shopping, pretending to act all exasperated and annoyed whenever Max stopped to take yet another photograph of an interesting building, sign, person, and a particularly interesting group of living statues around which flocked at least a dozen or so fascinated people. 

“Gee, imagine staying like that all day,” Fernando said, “Don’t they get like really bored?” 

“I don’t think so,” Max said, surprising herself with how quick her response was, “They have plenty of people to look at and lots of conversations to listen to.” 

“You mean nosy in on, Max,” Kristin gave her a heavy nudge, “That’s you, Maxine “Nosy Bitch” Caulfield.” 

“Without apology. Sorry not sorry.”

Kristin, Fernando, and Elaine moved along, already bored with the living statues, although Max lagged behind for just a few more moments, fascinated again by how they could stay so  _ still  _ like they were caught in a photograph, frozen in a moment of time. 

_ Like a living photograph. It’s so cool. I’m  _ so  _ trying that some time.  _

“Oi!” Elaine yelled from several metres uip ahead, waving back at Max. “Are you coming or not?!” 

Max nodded at her, mouthing that she was coming soon, raising her camera once again to her eyes, taking one more quick snapshot of the living statues before hurrying off to rejoin her friends. 

_ Gonna have to send that to Chloe. Though...she probably feels a little like a living statue day in and out. Maybe it’d be too much for her? Ugh. Stinks. File away for later. Can’t think now.  _

Not for the first time, the group of friends lamented how expensive everything they wanted in the upmarket shops were--Max spotted a cashmere coat to die for, hanging a little  _ too  _ worryingly close to a bucket of white paint. She eyed up the tonnes of golden jewelry glittering in a shop window, and found herself quite taken by the alluring display of expensive gems and rocks arranged in eye-catching fashion in yet another window of a store that geologists no doubt went to all the time just to look at the rocks. 

_ Chloe liked rocks,  _ Max mused as she stared at a really stunning piece of agate,  _ Didn’t she used to want her own giant rock collection? She was such a nature nerd.  _

Max couldn’t remember if Chloe had ever made it to the Grand Canyon, and she  _ really  _ hoped she had. She remembered how Chloe could talk for days at her about the awesome science to be found within the Grand Canyon. 

“They’re just rocks,” Elaine said, tugging hard on Max’s arm, “Let’s go find something more interesting.” 

With that, Max had to leave the store with its geological secrets behind, wishing she could’ve gone in for just a couple minutes, if only to see if they did have anything from the Grand Canyon itself. 

_ She’d have loved that shop. If only she could’ve come to Seattle… _

It wasn’t until well after lunch that they made it to the inner swimming pool, ready and eager to have a fun splish-splash together. The pools were crowded with parents pushing prams, children yelling and chasing each other and screaming with sheer excitement, old ladies chattering together while wrapped up in towels, lifeguards watching over the pools from the sides, and young teens just like them hanging out in the water, blocking the ladders for everyone else. 

“Last one in the pool is a sea slug!” Kristin yelled as she hared toward the edge of the pool, running and dive-bombing into the water just as the others caught up, watching as she turned around to look back at them. “Come on, guys, the water’s warm!” 

“Right, just gonna dip my toes in first,” Elaine said as she sat down on the edge, dipping her feet in, “Oooh, feels really good.” 

_ Maybe I should just do a practice dive first…  _

Max raised her arms above her head like she’d seen Olympic swimmers do on TV, before falling straight into the water, thinking she would do a flawless hands-first entrance only to smack face first into the water--it felt like Poseidon himself had come along and smacked her full in the face. 

“Ow!” she gasped as she emerged again for air, seeing Fernando had jumped in too; Elaine was still sitting on the edge, feet waving back and forth under the water. “Damn, got bitch-slapped by the water.” 

“Imagine how it’s gonna feel when you do your dive while you’re here,” Fernando commented, “It’ll be like a sucker punch.” 

“Still gonna dive,” Max assured, “Even if it’s a gut-wrenching belly-flop.” 

Right then, Kristin came up behind Fernando with a yellow pool noodle, surprising him with a smack over the back of his head, at the same time grabbing an unused pink pool noodle bobbing in arm’s reach. 

“Hey, Fernando, noodle fight! C’mon, girls, aren’t you joining us?” 

Elaine finally jumped into the swimming pool, wading over to Fernando, grabbing another noodle along the way. 

“Right, two against one,” Kristin observed, “Woe is me. Come on, Max, find one!” 

But Max didn’t hear her, distracted by two girls several feet away hanging out at the edge of the swimming pool, their hands flailing at each other, their faces moving in exaggerated expressions. 

“Maaax! Come on!” 

_ What’re they--oh, must be sign language. Hmm... _

“Just a second, guys,” Max addressed her friends, “Gonna have a little swim on my own for a bit.” 

“Why?” Fernando asked.

“I’m gonna come back, don’t worry.” 

“You better,” Kristin wagged a finger at her, “I’m outnumbered by these two dorks.” 

Even if Max couldn’t dive gracefully into the pool, at least she had a strong breaststroke, arms and legs pushing her along underwater, her hair floating around her head like she was in zero gravity. Only when she caught up to the two signing girls did she then pop up out of the water for air, gasping and squeezing her stinging eyes shut for a few seconds. 

_ How much fucking chlorine do they  _ need  _ in here?  _

Max looked at the two girls--they looked like they were at least college age, possibly even in the final year of their undergraduate studies or something, but that was a wild guess. Max’s eyes were drawn to the intricate sleeve tattoo on the taller, brown-skinned girl, very much ocean themed from shoulder to wrist. The other girl didn’t have tattoos, but she still had a slight punk look to her with her pink hair and piercings. 

_ Huh, they’re signing with both hands. I thought sign language was done with one?  _

“Hey, kid,” the taller one--was she Australian?-- “ What’s up?” 

Max realised she had been staring without speaking for a bit. 

“I saw you were signing,” Max said, “And I thought it looked kinda cool--wanted to see.” 

The girl flashed a brilliant grin, hands still signing toward her friend (or sister or girlfriend or whatever she was). 

“New Zealand Sign Language,” she explained.

Her friend poked her, signing back. 

_ Always thought it weird how they moved their mouth like that and over...expressify? It just...weirds me out. _

Max, for once, at least had the strength in her not to say that aloud. However, she wasn’t sure her friends would have held back. 

“You don’t look deaf,” Max blurted at the tattooed lady, “So why’re you--”

“Interpreters and girlfriends who want to learn their sweetheart’s language exist.” 

“Right,” Max acknowledged, glancing back at her friends, who were now all looking over back at her. She waved back at them before looking back at the girls. “So, you’re from New Zealand?” 

“Yeah, we’re here awhile. My girlfriend thinks Seattle doesn’t have nearly enough art exhibitions. I find them boring, she finds them awesome.” She paused as her girlfriend signed more at her. “Oh, yeah, and she puts up with my hockey obsession.” 

Max’s hands flew up to her mouth, almost slipping back into the water, her feet scrambling for a footing. 

“Hockey!” she almost shouted, though it was noisy enough as it was that yelling was required anyway. “I love that! I’m not big on art exhibitions either.” 

“I guess we’ll see you at a game, huh?” 

Max began to get the feeling her friends were beginning to get impatient, having long stopped their noodle fight to talk at each other and stare. 

_ I hope they don’t come over… _

“Well, maybe,” Max said, now preparing to swim back to her squad, “You long in Seattle?” 

“We’re here for a while, at least while my girlfriend stays on exchange at the university here. See you around. Name’s Aroha, by the way, if you wanted to know.” 

“Maxine, but I prefer Max.” 

“My girlfriend’s name is Cordelia. Don’t laugh, her parents are weirdly obsessed with Shakespeare.” 

“Not weird at all,” Max said, “I gotta get back to my friends.” 

Without even a goodbye or second glance, Max began swimming back to her friends, who immediately began clamouring at her with demanding questions. 

“Why were you hanging with them?” Kristin wanted to know, pulling a stern look as she curled her noodle around her neck. 

“What were they doing? Hand flapping? Autistic?” Elaine asked as she imitated the signing with her hands, much to Fernando’s amusement, snorting into the water. 

“Did you want to see if they were okay?” Fernando asked right when Max was going to answer. “Aw, that was sweet of you!” 

“Nah,” Max said with a dismissive wave, “Just wanted to have a closer look at their signing.”

“And see if they were okay, right?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Kristin rolled her eyes like she thought Max was being the most obtuse person on the planet--or at least in Seattle anyway. 

“They’re out and about, on their own, duh.” 

“And…” 

“Well, it’s amazing isn’t it, that they’re out here swimming, and on their own!” 

“Inspiring,” Elaine agreed. 

_ What Chloe wouldn’t give to be able to move, let alone swim, again… _

“Yeah...you’re right. I think they’re fine.” 

“At least we got some hot lifeguards around to keep them safe,” Fernando pointed at one particularly cute-looking lifeguard nearby who was crouching as he appeared to scold a couple of guilty-looking children. “I think he’ll keep an eye on them.” 

“Totally,” Elaine agreed, now grabbing Max’s arm, tugging her toward her, “Now let’s go see about that diving huh? And this time, I’ll take the picture, if that’s cool with you?” 

“Long as you capture me mid-flight, not on impact. I’m not sending pictures of me in pain from a belly flop to my friend.” 

“Swear to God, I’ll capture you mid-flight, no worries.” 

_ You better.  _

Minutes later, Max found herself climbing up and up to the highest diving board they could find, and much to their fortune, the pool far below was virtually empty except for them. Max kept her eyes firmly focused on the rungs as she ascended the ladder, trying not to think about how far down the pool itself was. 

_ This will be one  _ hell  _ of a painful flop.  _

Goosebumps sprang along her arms, heart thumping in her chest, her adrenalin already piercing her veins as she pulled herself up and over onto the board itself, gulping as she looked down. 

_ Holy shit.  _

The pool was a lot farther down below her than she thought it would be, and a little prickle of apprehension trickled down her neck. 

_ You can do this. For Chloe. You can do this, Max.  _

Max closed her eyes, forcing a deep inhalation, followed by a louder, blustery exhalation. 

_ Just gotta psych myself up first. Then I’ll dive.  _

She took another breath, swallowing as she tried not to think about how far she would fall when she made the jump. 

_ This is for Chloe. All for Chloe. She’d want to see this.  _

“For you, Chloe,” she murmured, too soft for anyone but herself to overhear. 

And she ran full tilt forward, leaping up off the board, curving her body around in mid-air, crossing her arms above her head, closing her eyes tight, ready for the impact that would come any second now. 

_ For Chloe, for Chloe, for Chloe-- _

The water felt both solid and liquid as she hit its surface, her body descending under in a flurry of bubbles around her, sweeping over her face, her arms, her legs. She weirdly didn’t feel much of the water’s warmth at all, her only thoughts consumed by one crazy,  _ crazy  _ fact: she had done it. She finally did the dare she backed out of all those years ago. 

When she felt her dive was slowing down, Max pumped her arms and legs, propelling her up to the surface, lungs already bursting for air, gasping for breath as soon as her head popped above the surface. At the side of the pool, her friends were cheering her on, Elaine already pulling out the picture she’d snapped, shaking it a little just as she must’ve seen Max do a million times. 

_ That was scary. Too scary.  _

“How was it?” Kristin asked as she and Fernando helped Max out of the pool until she was sitting on its side. 

“Terrifying as fuck. Never doing that again.” And Max meant every word of it. 

“Hey, at least we got a photo out of it, right?” Elaine said as she crouched to show Max the photo. “I kept my promise, right?” 

Max studied the photo, which wasn’t  _ that  _ great by any means, showing her as more of a blur than a defined figure that could be identified as a human being, but at least it was something. 

“Sure, Elaine,” she assured, “Thanks for the photo.” 

“”No problem.” 

“I hope you’re ready for rollerblading,” Kristin hinted, “My eyes are already stinging like hell from all the chlorine they had to endure.” 

“Tell that to mine,” Max mumbled, her own eyes stinging from water and chlorine. “Mine are giving me double middle fingers. At least they would if they could.” 

_ Thank god that’s over with now. Honestly looking forward to the rollerblading a helluva lot more. Always wanted to be a derby girl…  _

And it would have been a perfect day too at the end of it all, rollerblading like a badass in the skate park, arms flung out to her sides, eyes closed, head tilted back to the sun, like nothing else in the world mattered. 

Perfect, blissful, just what Chloe would’ve loved, if only that goddamn railing in her way, left behind by some clumsy builder or whatever, hadn’t decided to trip her up as she tried to jump over it, only to twist her ankle, sending her to the ground in a painful faceplant.

As if that indignity hadn’t been painful enough (at least no one took a photo--she’d have broken her own fucking camera had anyone dared), she had to be helped all the way back to the next bus back home, her poor left ankle now sprained because of a stupid railing that just  _ had  _ the audacity to be right in her path. 

_ That’s the first and last time I go rollerblading anyway. What a fucking day, amirite…  _

Either way, Max was confident Chloe would be highly entertained by the image of her rollerblading only to faceplant and make a fool of herself in front of everybody, strangers and friends alike. 

_ At least she’d have a laugh. Wonder how often she gets to laugh with her friends…  _

* * *

Sprained ankle aside, over the next couple of months, Max threw herself back into her homework, social life, and idle forays into the depths of the web, and tried to find the weirdest, craziest corners of Youtube, just so she could send the links to all her friends. She’d managed to catch up with Esther, and they’d had at least one cordial sort of conversation, however brief, with the latter being happy that at least Max had the courage to chat to the deaf couple at the swimming pool, and that she’d made an effort to understand able privilege. 

“Have any of your other buddies looked it up too?” 

“No,” Max admitted, “Not likely.” 

“Thought so. Well, I’ll see you later.” 

Despite all her convictions in the past that the able privileged bullshit didn’t matter, it still poked her in the back of her brain every now and again, even two months later, right on the cusp of summer vacation and exams. Like one day when she spotted Elaine kicking back in the back of an empty classroom at lunch, nose stuck in a book. 

_ Ugh, one of those tooth-rotting  _ Chicken Soup  _ books.  _

Walking over to take a seat beside her, Max pulled the book down, until Elaine was forced to look up at her. 

“Oh! What’s up, chick?” 

“I didn’t think you’d read these books. My teeth are rotting just looking at that thing.” 

“Seriously, Max,” Elaine said, “I was  _ just  _ reading a really amazing story about a girl with no arms who managed to write a book by writing with her feet. It’s like that quadriplegic guy who can paint with just his mouth! What excuse do  _ I  _ have complaining about my fitness routine?” 

“You have a fitness routine?” 

Elaine slapped the book down on her lap. “Hey, I gotta keep this booty lookin’ good. I’m a cheerleader after all. Oh, by the way, I think this book had something about a deaf singer who could draw crowds despite her, you know, not being able to hear. If she can sing despite being deaf, then I can do anything, right? Talk about inspiring.”

_ Didn’t one of those checklists say something about inspiration and...oh. Oh.  _

“Pretty awesome that kid manages to write with her feet,” Max agreed, “Didn’t think you’d be inspired to write books? Right?” 

“Nah. More because she overcame her handicap and did what she loved. I’d hate having no arms. That would suck.” 

“Yeah,” Max said, “But you can get prosthetics.” 

“Ugh, not the same. Still would rather have my own arms.” 

“Why?” 

“Uh, because then I’m still normal. Duh.” 

“Normal?” 

“People wouldn’t stare at me because I’m different from them,” Elaine shrugged, flapping her book idly, “I would rather be normal. I hope you’re not gonna lecture me like Esther. That’d be weird.” 

“Nah, don’t worry,” Max said, hoping she sounded convincingly upbeat, “You’re too cool for that.” 

“You too, Max. Hope you’re coming to watch me at the hockey match this weekend.” 

“I’ll be there.” 

Despite Max’s steering the conversation away from anything to do with the glurge in that  _ Chicken Soup  _ book, Elaine’s words still haunted her. 

_ If having no arms is abnormal, then what is having no movement or feeling in your whole body at all?  _

Part of Max really wanted to ask how Elaine would feel being in Chloe’s place, but she found that maybe she would rather not know at all. 

_ Would I hide my friendship with Chloe if she wasn’t… _

Max didn’t need to finish that thought. She already knew the answer. Of course she wouldn’t have to “hide” Chloe were she fully able-bodied, with freedom to do whatever the fuck she wanted at anytime, anywhere. 

_ What if Chloe wasn’t paralysed, but had another disability? Blind? Deaf? Would I “hide” her then?  _

And what Max hated most was that she had no answer to that either. Or maybe she  _ did _ , and she hated to face that it was no different an answer to her first question.

_ Fuck this growing up bullshit. Wish I could go back to childhood. So much fucking simpler back then.  _

Life was so much easier, with no soul-searching questions to worry about, when she and Chloe could run around, be pirates, and play hide and seek in waterfalls…

They were younger, they were younger, but now… 

_ God, if only I could be six again right now. Fuck being sixteen. I want to go back and just...live in that world we painted. Forever. _

* * *

Despite all her prior resistance to the able privilege checklists, Max nevertheless found herself noticing things she never had before that brought her thoughts back again and again to them. Elaine’s insistence on being “normal”, the way all her friends kept using the word “inspiring” to describe disabled people so many times it began to lose its meaning (and instead became greatly irritating to hear), how there were steps everywhere and so few ramps, how people on the street made really wide berths around people in wheelchairs, and how Kristin and Fernando pretended to know how to sign when they came across a group of Deaf people. When Kristin and Fernando did that, just flapping together their hands in a crude “imitation” of American Sign Language, for the first time Max felt a twinge of embarrassment, a sense of not wanting to be associated with those two. 

_ But they’re my friends, right? They hang out with me, still, so… _

And besides, friends didn’t call out other friends, right? Not if they wanted to stay friends, anyway. 

_ It doesn’t harm anyone, right? Right?  _

Max had no answer to that either. 

_ Or does it?  _

The fuck she knew. 

_ Would I call them out were it  _ Chloe  _ they were making fun of?  _

Max wasn’t sure she wanted to find that out either. 

_ Maybe it’s better I don’t know.  _

* * *

Exam season was shitty and hard as hell, but at least she had several big parties, summer concerts and sports events to look forward to to keep her mind off everything, and just be there with her friends like everything was normal, like nothing had--or would ever--change. Like everything was just as it was, and always would be. After all, as her parents always told her, friends made in high-school and even primary school were the best friends she could ever have, guaranteed to be there for her whole life long. In between all the concerts and games, she didn’t forget to write to Chloe, even if it was just a couple of letters and a photo or two of her fun times, apologising for her lack of contact, as she always seemed to be doing. 

_ Sorry I haven’t been in touch,  _ she apologised in one letter,  _ I know your life is so different now, and I don’t want that to get in the way of our friendship. I feel so lame writing “I hope you are well” etc...I haven’t been around much, but that will change very soon.  _

Whenever “soon” was, but it had to wait until she had more time. There was always so little time, and she had so many distractions in her timetable that Chloe, and everything else, quickly disappeared from her mind in the “dog days” of summer. 

_ I’m gonna be young only once, so gotta make the most of it while I can, before I turn twenty and regret not doing it sooner. Let’s party! Summertime means party time!  _

* * *

It wasn’t too far into the summer holidays when she happened to run into Esther on a casual visit to a coffee shop somewhere in the heart of Seattle, where they made hazelnut lattes to die for, and Belgian waffles second only to Joyce’s at the Two Whales Diner.

_ Oh hey, there’s Esther... _

Max spotted her sitting all cosy-like on a plush, deep blue, sofa, resting an arm on the armrest, stirring what looked like a cup of tea with her other hand. 

_ Should I go talk to her?  _

Sure, their brief “hi, how are you” whenever they passed by each other in the corridors at school held no hostility or grudge, but still. The idea that Esther no longer wanted to talk to her kinda stung, and really, she was the only one she felt she could talk to about Chloe without feeling like she had to “hide” her, like she was something shameful to be put away.

Stepping out of the queue right when the barista asked what she wanted, Max made a beeline for Esther, thinking maybe she should go see if she’d be okay with Max sitting with her before getting a cup of coffee or tea or whatever. Esther was apparently so deep in her thoughts she didn’t even notice Max standing right next to the couch, jerking in surprise and sitting up when Max addressed her. 

“Hey, Esther. Mind if I join you?” 

“Sure, why not.” 

Having anticipated a rejection, her response took Max by surprise. 

“Oh, so you’re okay with me?” 

“I like you enough.” Esther waved a hand at the vacant couch opposite her. “Take a seat. Have you ordered?” 

Max set her shoulder bag on the seat by the wall, fetching out her purse. 

“Not yet. I’ll be back in a tick.” 

Once she had her hazelnut latte ordered, Max rejoined Esther, kicking her legs up on the couch, slouching back against the wall. 

“Sit like that, you’ll hurt your back,” Esther commented. 

“I’m still young, I’ll be fine,” Max dismissed with a shrug, “My back can take it.” 

Esther folded her arms, sitting straight up in her seat. “So, I take it you’re still hanging out with Kristin and all?” 

“Yeah, of course I am. They’re my friends, right?” 

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I want to hang out with them as well.” 

“So are you still pissed off at me just for having friends?” 

Esther’s eyes widened. “What? No, no, not at all.” 

“You certainly bailed on us like we didn’t matter to you anymore.” 

“I wasn’t  _ bailing _ , I just...grew apart from your lot, I guess.” 

“Grew apart?” Max echoed. 

Esther busied herself with pouring another cup of raspberry-scented tea. 

“People change, you know.” 

“That fast?” 

“Actually, it’s been happening for a while,” Esther admitted, balancing her fresh cup of tea on her knees, “That day just laid the last straw on the proverbial camel’s back.” 

“Oh, okay.” 

Thankfully, Max’s hazelnut latte came right on time to distract them from what would otherwise have been a rather awkward silence. As Max stirred her coffee--she never put any extra sugar in it, wanting to keep her slim form--Esther broke the silence with a pointed question.

“Did you Google anything more about able privilege?” 

Max came close to spilling her latte as she stopped mid-stir, jerking her head up at the question. 

“What? Oh that able privilege stuff? Yeah, actually, I did.” 

“And?” 

“It’s...a hell of a lot to take in, you know. Kinda felt...attack-y if that’s even a word.” 

“Good.” 

“Good? What?” 

“That it made you uncomfortable.” 

_ Ugh...maybe I shouldn’t have sat here…. _

“Why the hell should I feel good about that?” 

“It  _ shouldn’t _ .” 

Max set down her latte with a firm clunk. “Explain.” 

“You’ve woken up to how able privilege affects people with disabilities, like your friend, right?” 

“I...guess you could say that?” 

“Do you see anything around you differently now?” 

Max looked around at the bustling cafe, spotting the restroom with stairs leading up to it. No ramp in sight. 

“Stairs everywhere.” 

“Right. And?” Esther pressed. 

“Promise not to tell my friends this?” 

“Not that I’m ever hanging out with them again, but I promise. Not a soul.” 

“We were at the swimming pool place a while ago,” Max began, “And I saw a couple of girls signing, and I went to talk to them. But...what’s weird is that I also kinda felt like I didn’t want my friends to see me talk to them at all, if that makes sense?” 

Esther set her teacup down on the table, leaning forward in her seat, eyes never leaving Max’s face. 

“Go on.” 

“Like they’d--I dunno, maybe tease me or something? Or tease the girls?” 

“You can see their able privilege now can’t you?” 

“I’m kinda--like  _ really  _ kinda--glad Elaine never went through with her cheerleading for the disabled--really, for Chloe--thing.” 

“Wait, what? Cheerleading? For the disabled?” 

Max cringed. “For Chloe, pretty much.”

“Because she’s  _ so  _ inspiring just because she’s in a wheelchair?” 

“Yeah...pretty much.” 

“Though I guess Chloe’s inspiring to you in other ways?” 

“She’s my best friend,” Max couldn’t help the warmth flooding her body as she said those two words,  _ best friend _ . “She was always such a leader--if anyone could convince me to do anything, it was her. She was the captain of our pirate ship for a reason.” 

Esther leaned back, a genuine smile lighting her face. “Pirate ship, huh?” 

“It was just the swings and see-saw set her dad built just for us, but--”

“Pirate ship, all the same. I take it she led you into all kinds of swash-buckling adventures?” 

Max grinned. “ _ All  _ the swash-buckling adventures.” 

“Nice. So, anything else that got you thinking about able privilege?” 

“Actually...speaking of Elaine, I caught her reading a  _ Chicken Soup  _ book.” 

“Oh Lordy-lord of Lords, I see where this is going.” 

“Yeah. Three guesses.” 

“Stories about disabled people who achieved being able to brush their teeth and get dressed despite their difficulties. Sounds accurate?”

“Somewhere in that neighbourhood.” 

“Sickly sweet?” 

“Probably. I didn’t even bother asking to read that shit.” 

“All your teeth and your dentist are going to thank you for that.” 

“And…” 

_ Is she going to judge me for what Elaine said about being normal?  _

“And what?” 

“Elaine kept saying stuff about being...normal. This about a girl who had no arms in one of the stories.” 

“Oh that’s a gross thing to say,” Esther opined, “That’s so not cool. What even is normal anyway?” 

“If having no arms strikes her as ‘abnormal’, I’d hate to ask her how she’d feel about being completely paralysed.” 

“What about Fernando and Kristin?” 

“Well...the other day, they were sorta making fun of sign language, flapping their hands like this,” Max demonstrated as such, before continuing. “Weird though--I actually felt legitimately like I really didn’t want to be with them at that moment. Does that make sense?” 

“They were embarrassing you?” 

Max scuffed her feet on the floor, blindly reading the headline of the newspaper left on the table. Something about a discovery of a huge load of ammonites somewhere in the cliffs of Arcadia Bay. Not that she knew or cared what the hell ammonites were. Hopefully nothing that would turn Arcadia Bay to glass. 

“I just didn’t want to look like I was with them, if that makes sense? Like...fine, I’ll hang out with them, they’re still good people--”

“I’m not doubting that, I’m just saying that…” 

“Saying what, exactly, Esther?” 

“I’ve outgrown your friends, Max.” 

A beat of silence, Max gaping at her, before closing her mouth. 

“What does that even mean?” 

“Values change, people change, that sort of thing.” 

“As you said before.” 

“Still think you’re cool for me though. You’re...different.” 

Max quirked an eyebrow, giving her a sidelong stare. “Thanks, I think.” 

“You’re learning, at least.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m learning that apparently it’s a bad thing to be able-bodied.” 

For a moment, Esther looked like she was caught between a facepalm and an eye-roll--fortunately she held back from both. 

“It’s not that you’re a  _ villain  _ or whatever overdramatic term you want to use. It’s just knowing is half the game, you know?” 

“Still, don’t like that it makes me feel kinda shitty.” 

“That’s all on you.” Esther said, “It’s up to you how you feel and react, not them.” 

_ I think I should just leave now.  _

“Sophia doesn’t hate me just because I’m not blind,” Esther continued, “Same as Chloe doesn’t hate you because you’re not paralysed. That make sense?” 

Max busied herself with her latte to delay having to give her an immediate answer. 

_ Now that she says it… _

“Totally.” 

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or serious.” 

“If they hate me, it’s not because I’m able, is that what you’re saying?” 

“More or less, yes, Max. That’s exactly what I’m trying to say. If they hate you it’s because you’re being a dick or they just...want to hate you because. If anything, they’re more likely to be frustrated because they live in a world catered to us ableds, you know? It’s stupid how many people just don’t  _ see  _ Sophia’s cane.” 

“Really?” 

“Or trip over it, or shout at her because apparently blind means you’re deaf too.” 

“Wait...they shout at her?” 

“Stupid, right? Assumptions for the win. Bet Chloe gets a lot of that too, right?” 

“She’s told me nurses babytalk her or pat her on the head even when she asks them to stop.”

“That does not surprise me. People in wheelchairs get that a lot. Hell, Sophia’s not in a wheelchair, and she gets that too.”

“Sounds really frustrating.” 

“That’s the  _ point _ . It  _ is _ , and it’s because of our society. We see disabled people as somehow...inferior, below us, child-like, you know? Believe me, they’re not. They date, they fall in love, they bang just like anyone else.” 

“I’d love to see the looks on people’s faces when they hear how dirty Chloe’s mind is,” Max blurted out, not bothering to hold back her grin, “She gets down and dirty, that one.” 

“Good for her.” 

“Yeah. Still my Chloe.” 

“And why wouldn’t she be? And ‘My Chloe’, huh?” Esther’s mouth quirked up in a cheeky little grin. “Something you’re not telling me?” 

“We’re...very close.” 

“Yeah. Very close. Let me know how that goes.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean. Anyway…” Esther pulled her cell-phone out of her jeans pocket. “I still have your number on here, don’t worry. You have mine still?” 

Max checked her own cell-phone, affirming the existence of Esther’s number with a confirming nod and “Mmm-hm.” 

“Nice. Text me if you need to chat me up. Platonically speaking.” 

“Will do,” Max promised, “Now excuse me while I ask for a second latte. My brain’s not feeling the hit today.” 

“Thought you had your pot for that?” 

“Not on me. Maybe later at home or sitting out under the stars and thinking about how small we are compared to the entire fucking universe. Know what I’m talking about?” 

“No, but sounds like you’ve met Mr. Existential Crisis a few times?” 

“You bet your ass I have. Staring at a fuckload of stars at night while smoking pot is a great way to meet up with Mr. Existential Crisis.” 

“Sounds cosmic, man.” 

* * *

The rest of summertime passed in a whirlwind of concerts, parties, sporting events (of which Elaine cheerled at a few), road-trips with her parents (and in her own car), more selfies and a letter or two sent to Chloe, photography tours around Seattle and beyond, more armfuls of photography-related books to dump on her long-suffering bookshelves, maxing her parents’ credit cards on more film, and an attempt at skateboarding in an effort to impress some skater boys from France (they only laughed at her when the skateboard dumped her on her ass. At least there were no sprained ankles this time.) There were nights under the stars with Fernando and Kristin, some experimenting with other drugs, a near-miss in her car when she thought she was okay after one drink, a slightly disturbing bad trip when she had a little too much of another drug she wanted to try, an eardrum-busting rave at a punk rock concert she knew Chloe would have loved, and plenty of ice-creams, popcorn and movie nights, and a chance meet-up again with the Deaf girl and her girlfriend at another concert. 

So it came as a shock when September barrelled back into her life with schoolwork and her birthday hot on its heels. Esther was at least talking to her on a regular basis again, and they managed to have a few more meaningful conversations together over a cup of coffee or tea at their favourite cafes. She had even brought along her sister, Sophia, to one of their meet-ups, and Max had instantly thought that she would get along immediately with Chloe, both of them probably trying to outcompete each other in who was more devoted to punk rock and the punk aesthetic and lifestyle. 

“Can’t see Chloe dyeing her hair pink though,” Max had commented, “Though you look great with it, Sophia.” 

“I know I do,” Sophia said, squaring her shoulders and looking very proud of herself, “I am so going to try a buzz cut one day, maybe when I turn sixteen.” 

“I’d love to see that--Esther better take a picture of you on her phone when you do do that.” 

“You ever consider a buzz cut?” 

Max had laughed, running a hand through her own brunette hair. “I think dyeing my hair is as far as I’ll go. Besides, I don’t think I’ll look great with a buzz cut anyway.” 

“You never know until you try.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sophia, next time I go to a hairdresser.” 

_ Yeah, no. Never getting rid of my luscious locks…  _

* * *

Unlike last year, Max’s birthday arrived on a Friday, the perfect time to have a birthday bash on the town and club until five in the morning. She was surprised when Esther decided to join up with herself, Kristin, Fernando, and Elaine, but at the same time was quite delighted to have her along, even if part of her kept worrying they’d bring up her leaving them or the able privilege talk at any time. 

Much to her relief, everyone partied and celebrated her seventeenth just as though it were any other, like nothing had ever been different between them all. Just like last year, and the year before that, Esther made sure all were safe and did not accidentally intoxicate themselves, let alone get alcohol poisoning, and brought everyone back home to Max’s to spend most of Saturday morning snoring off their hangovers. 

_ Wish Chloe was here though,  _ Max mused as she awoke early on the Saturday following her birthday,  _ I know she would’ve wanted to celebrate with me. She wanted to surprise me for my eighteenth. Sucks she can’t. Maybe I should surprise her with a visit instead on my eighteenth next year. _

Max wondered if she should call Chloe’s place up now, just to hear her voice again, even if for a minute or so. 

_ Everyone here’s all asleep, and there’s no excuse not to call her up now when I’ve been putting it off all year. Bad Max.  _

Grabbing her phone, Max exited the room to find a quiet place to call up the Prices, glad when the other line was quickly picked up by William, it turned out. 

“Morning, Max,” his voice came over crackly on the bad reception, “I take it you want to speak to Chloe.” 

“Yeah. Is she awake?” 

“You caught her in time. She’s just finished getting ready for the day. Hold on.” 

Max could hear footsteps on the other line, followed by a knock at a door, and then the door opening. 

“Chloe, it’s Max on the phone. I’ll put it on speakerphone for you.” 

“Thanks, dad,” came Chloe’s muffled voice, as if she were far away. 

_ Is it just me, or does she sound more...strained?  _

Several seconds passed before the door closed again on the other end, immediately followed by Chloe’s voice, sounding just as breathless and weak as it had before. 

“Max! Congratulations! You survived seventeen orbits around the sun!” 

Max had to laugh. Typical science geek. “Nerd. I love you.” 

“How’s it being seventeen?” 

“Glorious. Spent it partying it up last night. Love when birthdays happen at the weekends.” 

“Thanks again for coming for my eighteenth, Max. That was awesome.” 

“Hey, I couldn’t pass up seeing you. At least you can drink now, right?” 

A snort. “Not while I’m hopped up on medication I can. And you’re still underage.” 

“I know, but, you know. Good old teenage rebellion.” 

“You’re with your friends?” 

“They’re all snoring in the other room. Chloe, I know I haven’t talked much on the phone, I’ve been way too busy.” 

“I don’t blame you. People suck.” An awkward pause. “Just joking.” 

“I’ve been doing a load of shit. Schoolwork, social life, all that shit.”

“So, when you coming back to Arcadia Bay? Better be soon, right?” 

“As soon as I can, Chloe.” 

Another pause stretched between them, broken only by Chloe’s strained inhalation and exhalation. Max hated hearing the slight whistle in her breathing, the way it sounded on the edge of a rattle, fighting for air with every intake of breath. 

_ Damn. She doesn’t sound good.  _

“Chloe...are you okay?” 

“What? No, I’m awesome now you’ve called me up.” 

“You just sounded out of breath, that’s all.” 

“Because you’re pretty damn hot, that’s why.” 

_ And she sounds a lot hoarser. Shit.  _

Max leaned against the couch, crossing her legs, considering whether to leave the subject for now or to press further. 

_ It’s my seventeenth. May as well leave it alone for now. I want this day to be happy. And maybe she’s just getting over a cold or something.  _

“Do you even have a cell-phone of your own, yet?” 

“My parents promise they’ll get me one soon. Then I’ll--” a sharp intake of breath, “Sorry--I’ll hopefully have tech so I can--” a series of coughs, deep and hoarse, interrupted her sentence. “--talk to you. Text. Call.” 

“You sound in bad shape.” 

“No, I’m fine--” another cough, “Really.” 

“If you need to rest,  _ rest.  _ Please.” 

“I’m  _ fine _ .” 

“Sure, that coughing fit of yours has totally convinced me.” 

“I’m not going to  _ break _ , Max, okay?” 

_ Oh shit. Chloe’s not going to pick a fight now is she?  _

“I just want you to take care of yourself,” Max murmured into the phone, hearing muffled signs of life coming from the bedroom--her friends were no doubt waking up. “For real, Chloe, it’s nothing to do with thinking you’re fragile or breakable, okay? I just want you to be okay.” 

_ God, for reals, listen to me, Max the Mom Friend. Whoda thunkit? _

“Fine, Max, I hear you,” Chloe relented over the phone, clearly trying to suppress a cough. “I just want to prove I’m still strong.” 

“And you  _ are,  _ you’re awesome. And you don’t have to prove anything, okay? I know I told you to promise me to be strong, but I don’t expect you to be strong  _ every  _ day. You’re allowed to have shitty days. You know that.” Max allowed a few moments of silence to pass before changing the subject to something else, hoping to get Chloe’s mind off things. “How’s the Cosmic Microwave Background doing?” 

A short pause, broken by a strained inhalation. “Wow, Max, talk about a non-sequitur. The cold spot’s still being weird, but not much other than that.” 

“No alternate universes eating ours discovered then?” 

“Nada. Not a nibble.” 

“So we’re safe, still? Good to hear.” Max listened out again for her friends, hearing a door open and feet come down the hallway. “Hey Chloe, gotta go, okay?” 

“Wait--” 

“What’s up?” 

“I think--saw something online--photography course at--” another series of coughs, followed by that horrible strained inhalation again. “Blackwell. Next year. Fuck. Sorry. Gotta go. Enjoy your seventeenth.” 

_ Wait, what? Photography? Blackwell? Gotta look into this.  _

“You too, Chloe. I mean, sorry, I will enjoy my seventeenth. Talk to you later, right?” 

“Right,” came the faint, raspy reply. 

_ Oh Chloe…  _

“Bye, Chloe. Talk soon, I promise.” 

With that, Max hung up, just as Fernando came sauntering in, Kristin hot on his heels as usual. Elaine was probably still sleeping in; Max wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t appear until one in the afternoon. Esther was probably still snoozing away too, but no doubt, she’d wake up within the hour to take a shower before breakfast. 

“Hey, were you talking to someone on the phone?” Fernando asked, pointing at the phone in her hands. 

“Yeah...a friend of mine,” Max said. 

“Someone we know?” Kristin asked, plopping down on the seat next to Max, Fernando doing the same.

“Chloe.” 

“Oh, that girl?” 

“Yeah that girl,” Max confirmed as she busied herself with looking up Blackwell and whatever Chloe had said about photography. “She just mentioned something about a new photography thing at Blackwell.” 

“At where?” Fernando asked, leaning over Max’s shoulder as she googled on her cellphone. 

“Blackwell Academy--Chloe used to go there, she was on a scholarship. Straight As all the way down.” 

“Wow!” both friends gushed at once. 

“Oh look, here’s something,” Max pointed at the first result for her search, “Something about-- _ wowsers. _ ” 

Fernando nudged her. “Wowsers? Thought you hated that word.” 

Ignoring him, Max clicked through to the news site proclaiming the future installation of her favourite photographer, Mark Jefferson, at Blackwell Academy to teach photography. 

“Holy fucking shit, no way!” Kristin yelled loud enough to have no doubt woken up Max’s parents. “ _ That  _ Mark Jefferson?!” 

“The very same,” Max said, unable to tear her eyes away from the article. “Oh man, I’ll have to apply for a scholarship with a cover letter to go with it, and some of my photos.” 

“Holy shit, you’re gonna get this!” Kristin proclaimed, still using her shouting across a football field voice, “You’re gonna write that cover letter  _ now, _ and we’ll help vote on your best pictures, right, Fernando?” 

“That’s right we will. Come on, Max, you’re applying even as we speak, right?” 

Max leaped up off the sofa, her whole body ringing with the anticipation, unable to help pacing up and down and around the room, cellphone slipping out of her hand as she ran her hands through her hair, clasped and unclasped them, and crossed and uncrossed her arms like she didn’t  _ quite  _ know what to do with them. 

_ Omigod, omigod, omigod, omigod!  _

Her pacing was cut short by Fernando appearing in front of her, grabbing her shoulders to make her stay still. 

“Hey, hey, slow down, Max.” 

“I am so applying, but I don’t want to at the same time, does that make sense?” 

“The hell? Of course you want to apply!” Kristin said from the couch, legs now flung up on it, taking up the rest of the seats. 

“I know,” Max acknowledged, “It’s just--i don’t want to get rejected either.” 

“Unless you apply, you’ll never know. Don’t apply, and the rejection rate is certain, know what I mean?” 

Max bounced on the spot, arms crossed around her midriff once again. “I know, Fernando, I know, but--”

“But nothing!” Kristin interrupted. “Okay, we’re so going to look through all your photos and pick the best of the best, and then the best of the best of  _ the  _ best.” 

Max forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to bring herself back down from somewhere in the troposphere to solid earth again. 

_ This is my chance, right? The chance of a frickin’ lifetime. Always take the shot, right? That’s one of Jefferson’s favourite tips. Also, Blackwell is in Arcadia Bay, which means more visiting Chloe, right? She’d want this for me.  _

Max squared her shoulders, buzzing with electricity. She would apply, and she would start her application this  _ very  _ moment. Right now. Take the shot. Take the chance. 

“I’m gonna do it.” 

“YES!” Kristin screamed from the couch, leaping up to her feet. “You will rule!” 

Right then, Elaine stumbled in from the hallway, holding her head, hair a mess, dark shadows under her eyes. Esther followed behind her, looking in a similar state, though definitely perkier and more than a little curious about what was going on. 

“The hell is going on out here?” Elaine grumbled. 

Kristin ran to her, grabbing her arm and dragging her over to Max and Fernando, completely ignoring Esther, who hurried to join them nevertheless. 

“Elaine, you  _ better  _ come up with an awesome cheerleading routine just for Max when she wins that scholarship!” Kristin gushed.

“Arrgh, what scholarship?” Elaine groaned. 

“You tell her, Maxine Caulfield.” 

“Bet it’s photography, right?” Esther guessed. 

Max grinned, nodding with unhindered enthusiasm. “Hell yeah it is.” 

“A scholarship?” 

“To Blackwell Academy in Arcadia Bay. Mark Jefferson will be teaching photography there.” 

_ That  _ finally woke Elaine up fully, her hand dropping from the side of her head, eyes bugging, and jaw dropping open. 

“You’re. Kidding. Right?” 

“Nope,” Max said as she bent down to retrieve her phone from the floor, showing the article to the two girls, who bent over to read the article. “It’s all true, all of it.” 

“We are going to vote on all her photos,” Fernando added as Elaine grabbed the phone and squinted at it, “And help her find the best of the best to submit for the scholarship. She’s definitely going to get this.” 

Esther laid a hand on Max’s shoulder. “You’re definitely gonna get this, girl. Guaranteed.” 

_ With this much support, how can I  _ not  _ win the scholarship? Man, I don’t want to get my hopes up like this, but still…I know this will get me ahead in the world, and it won’t be a bad thing for my CV.  _

“When’s the deadline?” Esther queried. 

Max retrieved her phone, looking for the date. “Let’s see...oh wow, nearly a year away.” 

“Plenty of time to brush up on your awesome photography, amirite?” Kristin hinted. “We’re totally going to town with your camera.” 

“We’re going to get you to take so many we’re going to need the whole  _ school  _ to vote on your best photos,” Fernando commented, “It’s going to be a challenge, alright.” 

_ Who needs Christmas when I wake up to this news? My year’s already been  _ made _ , and fuck yes I’m getting that scholarship!  _

“I’m all up for a challenge, guys,” Max said, already itching to grab her camera and run outdoors to take all the photos she could, even if she were still in her pyjamas. 

“Yes! I knew you’d say that!” Kristin crowed, pumping her fists in the air. 

“Way to go,” Esther approved with a big grin, “You’re getting this, I  _ know  _ it.” 

_ Like hell I will. Roll on, 2013. Mark Jefferson, here I come.  _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max Caulfield heads off a new year with a couple days' visit to Chloe's, where she learns about the progressing deterioration of Chloe's condition, sees Chloe's old room in broad daylight since the accident for the first time, and encourages her best friend to try and find a way to really live out however long she has left. Somewhere in amongst all of this, Max gives Chloe her first kiss, shared in the privacy of the latter's bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY. SHITBALLS. THIS. GOT. LONG. Over 15K words. FIFTEEN AND A HALF THOUSAND. What is it with Chloe and Max doing this to my chapters when they get together? Those two just...I'm sure they're not sorry about this. But hey, this means some HELLA PRICEFIELD content, including a couple of kissing sessions, the second decidedly more heated than the first ;) 
> 
> Be warned, the first part might seem a little rushed, but I'd been slaving over this for a few weeks in-between a week-long field school, another week of recovery (as well as being hit with a sudden cold), and adjusting again to university, and I've pretty much reached my limit of editing and re-re-re-re...editing. :p Most of the fic from the make-up/out scene onward was all done before attaching the beginning stuff I'd written while on my geology field school.

Another new year, another family road trip, this time swinging east of Washington State, making a roundabout tour through several other states before circling back into Oregon. Naturally, Arcadia Bay was on the agenda; Max had already established plans to stay a couple days with Chloe, hoping to make up for almost a year of not visiting. 

A long winter’s road trip had also meant ample opportunities to take the best possible photos for the application to Blackwell Academy’s photography school, and Max made sure to scrutinise every last inch-- _ millimeter _ \--of her photos for the tiniest flaw. Just a tadge underexposed in  _ that  _ corner--disqualified! A little  _ too  _ much wobble, as though taken in a 1.5 magnitude earthquake--insta-disqualification! A colour looking just a midge out of place--dismissed from the final portfolio. It was no wonder Max ended up unable to find the right--the perfectly perfect to perfection--shot. She ignored her mom’s postulating about seeing the forest first before examining the trees--look at the photo as a whole before critiquing the tiny things. 

_ Mom doesn’t understand. This needs to be  _ flawless,  _ down to the last fucking molecule, or I can kiss that scholarship goodbye.  _

And no scholarship meant no Arcadia bay. 

And no Arcadia Bay meant no Chloe. 

That would never do. 

And anyway, several months still lay ahead of her, enough time to scrutinize the rest of her photographic repertoire. She had her Seattle squad to help deliver the Final Judgement Day to her photos. And there was no reason Chloe wouldn’t want to chime in with her own opinions too. 

_ Chloe  _ would  _ say they’re all amazing though; I’ll have to make it really clear how serious this is for me.  _

Then again, maybe Chloe already knew, and perhaps she would be more willing to divulge brutal honesty upon her newest pictures. 

_ New rule,  _ Max decided as her parents entered the town of Arcadia Bay,  _ if  _ Chloe  _ deems a photo worthy of submission, her vote wins alone, even if my Seattle bitches say no.  _

Returning to the Price household always felt like coming back to a second home away from home--all the more reason to secure that scholarship if she wanted to see Chloe more often, and not just talk to her through letters and selfies. 

No sooner had her parents pulled away from the curb after helping with the luggage, then the door opened to reveal William and, coming up behind him, Chloe. Chloe still in her wheelchair, seatbelts holding her body still, her arms resting useless on the armrests.

“Max!” Chloe shouted in unrestrained jubilance. “Dad, get out of my way, I want to see my best friend!” 

With a chuckle, William moved out of the way, leaving the girls alone to their reunion. Seeing Chloe wheel her way down the hall to greet her made her heart soar, especially seeing the slow smile alighting on her face as her eyes locked with hers. At the same time, wonderful as it was to see Chloe again after nearly a year…

_ Shit, is it just me, or is she even thinner than last year? God, she better be okay.  _

“Max! You have returned!” Chloe grinned up at her, stopping her wheelchair so close to Max, the front wheels bumped the toes of her shoes. 

“I’m here at long last, alright,” Max said, pulling down her scarf so her voice wasn’t so muffled. “Move so I can close the door.” 

An impish look came over Chloe’s face. “Not until I get my hug first, mad Max.” 

Max affected a long-suffering sigh. “If you insist, Miss Chloe Price.” 

Bending down, Max carefully wound her arms around Chloe’s shoulders, pressing close to her, feeling how warm she was compared to the bitter cold outside. She closed her eyes, allowing herself sink into how soft Chloe felt against her, the way her hair tickled against her face, the way she had that subtle smell of soap clinging to her, how her chin fit perfectly into that little spot in Max’s shoulder, and the soft little exhalation laced with contentment.

“Thanks for the hug, Max. You now have permission to shut the door.” 

Max gently let go of Chloe, straightening up with a salute. 

“Yes, Captain Chloe. Just gotta bring in my luggage first.” 

Chloe’s room wasn’t very different from the last time she’d seen it--in fact, as far as Max could tell, nothing had changed at all. The same computer, the same TV, the same dressers, the same hospital bed, the same ventilator, the same IV drip...everything hadn’t changed, not even Chloe. Seeing her in the cool blue light of winter filtering through the blinds of the window next to the shelf above her bed, Max imagined the only thing that had changed in this room at all was the lighting through the seasons since last year. Blue winter’s light, orange autumn’s glow, midday summer’s glare, and at night, the phases of the moon as it passed night after night across the sky. 

_ Does Chloe ever go outside and just look at the stars? They must look so beautiful without so many streetlights around.  _

“So Max,” Chloe says, wheeling up to her, “You gonna apply for that scholarship?” 

_ What? Oh! That one.  _

“Duh, Chloe. Like I’ll pass up the opportunity to show them how proud I am of my photography?” 

“Yes! That’s my Max! You find any photos yet to submit?” 

Max pulled a face. “I’m  _ trying _ , but I need to find the perfect one, feel me?” 

“I’d like to feel you,” Chloe purred, a sly grin pulling up one corner of her mouth, “Can’t do much about that though.” 

“Seriously though, Chloe, I’m still at a loss. Which photo do I submit?” 

“I don’t know. The best ones?” 

“That’s the  _ problem,  _ Chloe, I don’t  _ know _ .” 

“Have you got them with you here?” 

Max nodded, gesturing at her backpack. “Yeah. My holiday photos. I’ve been scrutinising them to death and back, you don’t even know.”

“Well, let’s take a look at them, Max. Maybe I can help you pick.” 

_ Here we are, photos, your final judgement, courtesy of Chloe Price.  _

Chloe nearly ran Max over in her excitement to look at the photos Max had taken on her holiday, determined to help her select the best ones for the scholarship. Max held each one up close to Chloe so she could scrutinize every little detail closely before giving it a hard “pass” or “fail”. 

“That’s a  _ stunning  _ one of that squirrel eating a doughnut. If it weren’t for the five empty beer bottles lying on the ground.” 

“Oh...right,” Max nodded, tossing the photo into the “rejected” pile, “Probably doesn’t help it was near a junkyard. But I did do  _ this _ .” 

Max held up one of an old, abandoned yellow bus in that same junkyard, marvelling that the vehicle had once been filled with chattering, laughing kids singing “The Wheels on the Bus…”. 

“That...is actually pretty fucking sweet, Max. It passes with flying colours.” 

“Here’s one of a miniature pony framed by sunrise.” 

“Everyone likes ponies. Toss on “pass” pile.” 

_ Man, I love how fast we’ve just...become comfortable with each other,  _ Max marvelled, stealing a glance at Chloe, gaze catching a second too long on her lips, the way her hair was so soft in the weakening daylight.  _ She’s so...beautiful.  _

“That photo is just...trees.” 

“Huh?” Max shook herself out of her reverie, looking down at the current photo on the pile. Indeed, it was of a forest in broad daylight, with a featureless overcast sky overhead. “Oh...yeah, you’re right. Pine trees too.” 

“Pine trees equal boring, Max. You should know that.” 

“I will trust your instincts on the ins and outs of tree photography, Chloe. On the reject pile it goes.” 

“Oh, that one of the birds isn’t that bad,” Chloe reviewed another image, “That can go on the maybe pile?” 

“If you say so,” Max said, tossing the bird photo in between the pass and rect piles. “Still think it looks good, but then I’m biased, right?” 

“Everyone’s biased to their own art, Max, don’t worry.” 

_ Me, worried? Not anymore, now I know that when I return to Seattle, I’ll finally have photos I can pull into a portfolio to send along with my application. Blackwell, here I come.  _

The following morning arrived in dull daylight, Max kicked out early by a couple of doctors who had come in to check on Chloe--she didn’t mind, even though Chloe clearly did with her loud complaining and eyerolls and groans about them having to check in on and examine her to see how her condition was progressing.

_ I hope they have good news for her,  _ Max thought as she idly flipped through channels on the TV in the lounge area.  _ Like maybe she’ll feel something below her neck, even if just in a little spot. That would be amazing for her. _

On the other hand…

_ It’s been nearly two years now, hasn’t it? What if this means...omigod.  _

Max refused to dwell on the possibility of Chloe living out the rest of her adult life unable to move or feel  _ anything  _ below her neck. How many decades did the average adult work in their lifetime? Four? 

_ Shit. Forty years like this? I--god, Chloe. I--I can’t even--nope. Don’t want to think about this at  _ all. 

It was an age before the doctors finally exited Chloe’s room, not troubling themselves with even a sideways glance at Max as they went straight to the table where Joyce and William were seated. 

“Get that girl out of here first, please,” a doctor complained, “This is a private conversation we’re having.” 

Max didn’t let them see her eye roll. 

_ I’m not a  _ girl _ , dude. But yeah, colour me outta here. Hope Chloe’s okay.  _

When Max returned to Chloe’s bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her, she was troubled to see some dark mood had set into her face, a kind of heaviness weighing in her blue eyes. And yet, when she looked up at Max, she immediately flashed a smile at her, a typical Chloe-esque show of bravado, trying to alleviate the other girl’s worries. Even after five years, Max knew when Chloe was hiding something, and it would take a bit of coaxing to get it out of her. 

_ Maybe I should try to cheer her up a little, and then we can take a walk on the beach or something and talk.  _

"Hey Chloe?" 

Max waited as Chloe moved toward her, coming to a stop just a foot away, looking up at her, still with that little bit of darkness in her eyes. 

"What's up, Max?" 

Max gestured to the pile of makeup dumped on the desk where Chloe's computer lived. "Does anyone put on makeup for you?" 

"No, not really. I don't see the point in it--can't go out on the town and club can I?" 

She let her eyes linger over Chloe's face, studying her high cheekbones tapering to her proud chin, the shape of her nose, and how soft her lips looked from here. She'd never really noticed before how Chloe's eyebrows were like two fine arches, like she plucked them, but Chloe wasn't the eyebrow-plucking type. 

_ Damn, wish my eyebrows were that well-behaved. Sometimes mine resemble two caterpillars.  _

"What're you looking at, hippie?"

"Huh?" Max blinked, realising she'd just been staring at Chloe for the last ten or so seconds. "Oh! Uh, yeah, the make-out--I mean make-up, right? That." 

"Ooh, Maxine's blushing!"

"Oh shut up." 

"Whatever, hippie." 

_ Okay. Make up. Focus on the make out--make up! Not--forget it.  _

"I know about make up--"

"You mean make outs?" 

_ Dammit, Chloe.  _

Max planted her hands on her hips. "You're impossible sometimes." 

"And yet, our friendship lives on." 

"Makeup first, make out later." 

"That's a pinkie promise, right, Max?" 

"Yes, Captain. Now let's do makeup--you're drop-dead gorgeous anyway even without it." 

"You're the first outside of my family to say that." 

Max could feel her heart drop a little. What, did no dudes ever tell her how gorgeous she is? Were guys in Arcadia Bay  _ that  _ blind or clueless? 

"Really? Because I'm sure some dudes at Blackwell must've been crushing on you." 

"If they were, they're shit outta luck, then and now." 

"You're not into dudes?" 

"Used to be, or at least I  _ thought  _ I was. But I'm pretty sure I like girls now. Or... _ a  _ girl, at least." 

Max didn't need to ask who that girl was--the adoration in her eyes and the way she smiled at her was enough of an answer. 

_ I definitely want to kiss her. _

"So, you want me to put on some makeup for you now?" 

"Long as I get a kiss out of it." 

Max grabbed the chair next to the bed, grabbing the makeup along the way, planting herself next to Chloe’s wheelchair. Setting the makeup down on the floor, she opened up the moisturizer, scooping some up into her hands, rubbing them together, leaning forward at the same time. Her heart skipped a beat being so close to Chloe that if she tilted her head forward, she could almost have kissed her. 

"Be warned, my hands might be cold." 

"It's fine. At least I'll be able to  _ feel  _ something." 

Chloe's eyes closed slowly as Max began to rub in the cream, starting with her forehead, massaging it into her temples and trailing down over her cheeks, thumbs brushing over her fine cheekbones. Max could see the tension leaving Chloe's forehead, lower jaw, and the corners of her mouth as she rubbed in the cream, hearing a sigh of bliss escape Chloe's lips. 

"You like this don't you?"

"It feels amazing." 

Max has helped plenty of girls with their makeup, and she's pretty certain no straight chick has ever looked this blissful just from her putting on the moisturizing cream, a lazy smile lilting on Chloe's lips as she finished rubbing in the last of the cream into her chin. 

"Hope my hands weren't too cold." 

"Cool, but perfect cool. Soothing cool." 

"Now for the foundation..." 

Max was careful not to spill too much of the foundation as she applied it to Chloe's face, seeing again that bliss take over her expression. 

_ She's really enjoying this, isn't she?  _

She couldn't help her eyes flitting back down to Chloe's lips every now and again, and the part of her that wanted to kiss her grew more demanding. And Chloe's comment part way through Max dotting on a little more foundation didn't help either. 

"You know, it feels like you're giving me little kisses right there." 

"I'm putting on more foundation, sorry to disappoint.”

"It better be a real one soon." 

Foundation done, Max moved on to the blush, applying it in light brushes to the apples of Chloe's cheeks, giving her a healthy glow that made her heart ache, knowing that once her makeup was removed at the end of the day, she'd have that pale, weary look to her cheeks again. She took care not to bump the bars on either side of Chloe's head, lest she set off the wheelchair, though she was sure Chloe had it parked firmly so it wouldn't move by accident if something was bumped. 

"How do I look now?" Chloe asked in the middle of the blush application, eyes still closed. 

"Goddess of beauty once I'm done." 

"What, like I'm not already a goddess of beauty, Max?" 

"You've always looked amazing, Chloe. Still can't believe no dudes ever told you...but whatever. Dudes are...sloppy anyway." 

A snort of amusement from Chloe. "Speaking from experience?" 

"You could say that. Don't be jealous." 

"Nah, I'm not." 

"Sure?" 

"I'm plenty sure. Pretty sure you're an amazing kisser by now." 

"Way to put on the pressure, Chloe. Don't set the bar too high." 

"Too late, hippie."

"Okay, that's the blush done, now for the eye-shadow. Going for a natural look here." 

But when she leaned in closer to apply the eye-shadow, she almost faltered, too aware of their noses being only millimetres apart, Chloe's exhalation brushing against Max's lips and chin. Her fingers trembled, nearly dropping the cotton bud with its dusting of eye-shadow, far too aware of the heat in her neck, the way her cheeks were no doubt turning dusty pink like the blush on Chloe's cheeks. She tried to force herself to focus on applying the eyeshadow to Chloe's eyelid, brushing strokes from inner to outer corner, all too aware of her heart hammering in her chest, how her lips burned to meet Chloe's. 

_ May as well kiss her, right? She wants this and so do you.  _

Weird how despite experience, Max nevertheless came up with a thousand reasons why it would be screwed up. What if they bumped their noses too hard? What if her mouth missed Chloe's and she ended up kissing her chin or something? What if she somehow knocked out the ventilator in her throat? What if, what if, what if. 

_ Now or never, Max.  _

"Keep your eyes closed, Chloe." Max whispered. 

_ Here goes nothing.  _

Her hand, still holding the cotton bud between two fingers like a cigarette, stilled against the side of Chloe’s face, thumb brushing just under her lower lip, hearing a catch of breath at the touch. She paused just long enough to study the pink of her lips, imagining how soft they would be to the touch.

_ I want this to be perfect for Chloe.  _

Closing her eyes, she let her nose rest against Chloe's, exhaling with a deliberate slowness, her own warm breath melting on Max’s lips too, eliciting a jolt of pleasure deep in her. She allowed her breath to linger a moment on Chloe’s lips, just to tease the moment out a little longer, before letting her lips brush hers, a shiver of goosebumps tingling over Max’s arms. 

“Oh…” Chloe’s exhalation melted between Max’s parted lips, setting off something deep and tingly and warm in her. “Max…” 

Lower lip to lower lip and upper lip to upper lip, Max now pressed a firmer kiss than the one before, her stomach fluttering as she felt Chloe's lips press back against hers, warm and soft and dry, holding Max in place until she finished the kiss with a little shuddering sigh. 

"How--how is it?" Max whispered, barely moving her lips against Chloe's. 

"Do it again. Longer this time." 

Max let her hand drop to Chloe's lap as she pressed a kiss to the corner of Chloe's mouth, allowing her lips to brush over hers, hearing the little tremor in Chloe's inhalation as she kissed along her lower lip, catching it briefly between her own, just to hear that little sigh again. 

"Can you tilt your head to the side toward me?" 

Chloe did so, and Max leaned in again, lips parted against Chloe's, encouraging her to melt into the invitation of a warmer, deeper kiss, moaning softly in the back of her throat for extra measure, heart skipping another beat as she heard one in return from her. She could feel her whole body tingling, warmer than ever and she knew it wasn't because of the heat lamp in Chloe's room. She heard the machine inhaling for Chloe, followed by the puff of exhalation filling Max's mouth, making her moan again at the intimacy of her breath entering her airways. She began to feel Chloe trying to tug back, a little urgent in its nature, and Max pulled out of the kiss, out of breath, wanting more, but at the same time, sensing Chloe needed a little break. 

She opened her eyes, leaning back enough to gaze into Chloe's eyes, hand still resting on her lap, the cotton bud still between her fingers. 

"How was it?" 

Chloe grinned, eyes sparkling, cheeks even more flushed than usual. "Coulda used more tongue, but amazing all the same." 

Max laughed, whole body still buzzing from the kiss. "Glad to know I came through." 

"Interesting choice of words there." 

_ Goddammit.  _

"I will choose to refrain from comment on that." 

"There better be hot monkey sex in my future, Maxine Caulfield." 

"Oh god, you're out of control,  _ Chloe Price _ ." 

Max dusted more eye-shadow on the cotton bud, leaning forward again to apply it to Chloe's other eyelid, once again too aware of the intimate distance between them as she did her handiwork. Seeing how peaceful and happy Chloe looked with her eyes closed and the smile still on her lips pulled at her heart. She could hold her hands, press the most loving and firmest of kisses along her collarbone or in that tender spot on her wrist, and Chloe wouldn't feel a thing. She could  _ see  _ Max do it, but it would be nowhere near the same, at all. 

_ So much for the, uh, hot monkey sex. That is  _ such  _ a Chloe thing to say.  _

"Now for lip gloss and lipstick and we're done." 

This time, Max's fingers were steadier as she took the lip gloss and uncapped it, gently moving it over Chloe's lips, again too aware of how full and enticing they looked, now moist with the gloss. She couldn't resist leaning in one more time to press kisses along her mouth, from corner to corner, feeling her smile under her, the taste of peach-flavoured gloss now on her own lips. 

"I could use more of those in the future," Chloe murmured, "Don't stop." 

"I can definitely promise more kisses in your future--all from me," Max said, now putting the capped gloss down, picking up and uncapping the lipstick, applying it quickly but precisely to Chloe's lips. She grabbed a tissue she'd taken from the tissue box and dabbed it against Chloe's lips to remove excess lipstick. "All done, Chloe Price, Goddess of beauty." 

"Stop it, you're making me blush." 

Max gathered up the make up and took it back to where she'd found it, tossing the tissue in the bin on the way. She caught sight of her bag, remembering the camera she always brought along inside it. 

"Hey Chloe, how would you feel about a selfie together?" 

Chloe turned her wheelchair around again to face Max. "You sure?" 

"I won't show it to anyone else if you're not comfortable with that." 

"In that case, how can I say no to a picture with Max Caulfield?" 

After rummaging in her bag for her camera, Max returned to Chloe's side, crouching low so she could get into the frame with Chloe, leaning her head against hers. 

"Ready?" 

"Always ready." 

"On count of three." 

A camera flash, followed several seconds later by the print-out of the resultant photo. Max waited for it to fade in completely, showing Chloe's beautiful face next to her own. 

"What do you think, Chloe?" 

"Whoa, good job with the make-up." Chloe turned her head to gaze at Max with a small smile. "Thanks, dude. That was fun." 

"Do you want to keep it?" 

"You can put it on my pinboard up there so I can look at it any time." 

As Max walked to pin the photo to the pinboard, Chloe continued her conversation. 

"I think I'm overdue for a little fresh air on the beach. Mind getting me my winter things?" 

Max stepped back from the pinboard, admiring how well the photo of herself and Chloe had turned out. The natural look really suited her, bringing attention to the stunning shade of blue her eyes were, and how soft a blonde her hair was. Chloe was truly gorgeous.

"Max? Walk. Beach. Winter shit." 

_ After a kiss like that...a walk on the beach is the only natural progression. _

Much as Chloe had been chatty minutes before stepping out the door, that all changed within an alarmingly short time, with her mood distinctly lower by the time they reached the beach. Chloe had fallen into abrupt silence, withdrawing into herself as they strolled along the beach’s broadwalk. Max stole occasional glances at Chloe, all wrapped up in a hat, a scarf, coat, and gloves. An extra blanket lay over her legs, and a shawl was wrapped around her shoulders to fight off the January chill. It was strange to think they were already in 2013, another year, another fifty-two weeks of adventures. Max lay her hand on Chloe's, slipping her fingers between hers, wishing again that she could feel it. Touch was so important to humans, to mammals, according to her good friend Esther, and it hurt something deep in her that Chloe could never feel an affectionate touch again, at least not below her neck. 

"Chloe..." 

"Max." 

"You're...quieter than usual. Are you sure you're okay?" 

Chloe sped up just enough that Max had to quicken her pace. 

"I haven't upset you, right?" 

"What?" Chloe slowed to a stop, turning her wheelchair so she faced the ocean. "No, Max, you're doing awesome. Thanks for the makeover." 

Max couldn't help but grin, proud of her handiwork. "Hey, who knows, I could be a professional photographer by day and moonlight as a beautician on the side." 

"You certainly have an eye for making a girl look and feel good." 

"You're welcome, anytime." A beat, Max searching Chloe's face for any sign she'd speak whatever was on her mind. "Something happen this morning? Did the doctors say something to you?”

Chloe gazed up at Max, that same hidden...something...in her eyes.

"Max, you're...amazing, you know that?" 

"Yeah, of course I am. Duh." Max shot her a grin. "And I get more awesome when I'm high or drunk." 

"Okay, sure, Max the Pothead." 

"That's it, I'm going back to Seattle now," Max pouted, pretending to be offended. "Not until you say sorry." 

"Fine, sorry, Max. Stay with me." 

"Always, even if I'm not around often. Gotta keep up the social life." 

"Unlike me, all alone here in Arcadia Bay. But I don't mind being alone, you know." 

Max folded her arms, looking out at the distant ocean crashing on the beach. "Really? Do you really not mind it?" 

"I've had to get used to it, right?" 

"So you don't mind because you're used to it." Max sighed, scuffing a shoe. "Not because you actually like it." 

An awkward pause, before Chloe abruptly changed the topic. 

"I overhead the doctors this morning."

A chill prickled down Max's spine. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat ran dry, not even a croak escaped.

_ Shit. Please don't let it be bad news.  _

"My respiratory system is...not getting better." 

"But it will, right? Maybe we really shouldn't be out here." 

"It's fine, Max. We can stay out a little longer. Anyway...I didn't really tell you, but I've been sleeping more and more, constantly feeling wiped out even after a few hours. Anemia, I think they were saying, as well as just..." 

"Just what?" 

"I swear, I've been trying hard to live, for you, after what you told me in the hospital. Really, Max." Chloe let loose a deep sigh, as if from her own soul. Without thinking, Max reached out to wrap an arm around her shoulders, standing as close as she dared. "But as it goes, the spirit is willing but the body is weak. My immune system is getting screwed royally." 

"I'm...I'm sorry to hear it." 

Chloe bowed her head, before slowly looking up at Max, eyes meeting hers, never leaving her gaze. "I'll be lucky to see Christmas again." 

Max's hand tightened on her shoulder, hanging on more for support as her knees turned to jelly under her. The scarf covering her face at least hid whatever expression she no doubt had now from Chloe.

"W-what? No, Chloe..." 

"I've researched how long people with my condition can expect to live--"

"So have I." 

"Then you know we're lucky to see two years, maybe three at a push. It's not looking good, Max." 

_ A world without Chloe?  _

"Maybe they're wrong. Maybe it'll get better." 

"I don't want to live the rest of my life like this, Max, unable to do anything for myself. They said I'd get feeling back nearly two years ago. Spoiler: still no feeling at all below my neck." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. It's not your fault the doctors lied again to my face and got my hopes up for fucking nothing. They'd even conned my parents into getting me goddamn crutches, promising I could walk again." A snort of disgust. "Yeah right. Like that'll happen. Fuck all of them." 

Max willed herself to take a deep breath, wanting to take Chloe’s mind off all of this somehow. 

“This is going to sound so cliche, but at least you’re alive, here, with me.” 

“Oh sure, alive and unable to wipe my own ass or brush my teeth or do anything for myself except talk. What kind of life is that?” Chloe blew out a sigh of frustration. “Max, I’m afraid I’ll forget what it’s like.” 

“Forget what what’s like?” Max asked, letting her hand slip from Chloe’s shoulders, down her arm to rest on her hand.

Chloe nodded down at Max’s hand on her own. “This. It’s so fucked up I can’t even feel my own best friend touching me, or giving me a hug. That’s fucked.” 

“But you can tell I am right?” 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it any less messed up.” Chloe rested her head back on the wheelchair headrest. “It’s weird, but...sometimes I think others can’t feel me because I can’t feel them.” 

Max squeezed her hand, rubbing her thumb over Chloe’s fingers. “I can, Chloe, and you feel...the same, I guess.” 

Chloe turned her head, raising an eyebrow. “The same, I guess?” she echoed. 

“I mean in a good way, not a bad way. You still feel like...Chloe.” 

_ Yes, Max, that made way more sense. Not.  _

“I know you can’t feel anything below your neck, but believe me, I can still feel you. You feel the same as you always have.”

“I’d give anything to feel again,” Chloe’s voice cracked. “Anything. I want to feel all the little things people take for granted.” 

“Like…?” Max encouraged, kneeling on the sand, hand never letting go of Chloe’s. 

“The way heavy winter blankets feel when you sleep in them, you know? That woollen weight. Or holding a mug of hot chocolate to warm up my hands.” 

Max nodded, but didn’t speak. 

“Or how a fork and knife sits in my hands, weird as that sounds. You know, the metal against your skin?” 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

“A hot shower on a cold day. Fresh towels wrapped around me.”

_ She can have all the pirate-themed towels in the world...and she’d never feel them. Fuck.  _

“I always hated how cold wooden floors felt under my feet first thing in the morning. Now I miss it.” 

_ Weird as it sounds, that makes sense too. Holy shit…  _

“Dewy grass in autumn?” Max suggested, leaning her head against Chloe’s arm. “Sand between your toes.”

“Squishy dirt in my parents’ backyard after a rain. The feel of the warm sun on my back. Sitting on a swing and just hanging out.”

Max smiled. “I remember you always wanted to go right over.” 

“Yeah, and  _ you’d  _ hop right off after a few swings, like the chickenshit you are, Max.” 

“You’re merciless, Chloe.” 

“It’s the company I keep.” A pause passed between them. “Soft sand slipping through my fingers. Waves tugging at my legs when going for a little splish-splash in the ocean.” 

Max pushed herself off the sand, standing up straight again, wincing at the pins and needles in her legs.  _ That  _ she doubted Chloe missed. 

“Our sleepovers--” Chloe continued, “I miss that comfort of waking up to the presence of someone you love lying next to you. Just feeling that...dip in the mattress, if that makes any sense?” 

Max thought back to all the sleepovers she’d had with Chloe, and how she had always found it so comforting being tucked in bed next to her, falling asleep without a worry. 

“Or me waking you up with my cold feet when Joyce called us down for breakfast for the millionth time.” 

“Max!” 

Max folded her arms. “It’s true, don’t try and deny it.” 

“I hate you so much right now.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

A quiet moment passed between them, broken only by the cry of seagulls wheeling above the crashing, shushing waves on the beach. Max spotted distant kayakers rowing their way out in the deep sea.

_ It’s fucking cold. Beautiful but cold as hell.  _

“Chloe?” Max looked around at her, searching for any signs she might be getting too cold. “You don’t feel cold yet, do you?” 

“My nose is a little cold, but we can stay out here a few more minutes.” 

“Sure?” 

“Max, you’re my best friend, not my mother.” 

“I was just making sure you’re okay, Chloe.” 

“I don’t need anyone else babying me.” 

“I’m not babying you, Chloe. It’s just that friends don’t let friends give themselves hypothermia.” 

“I just want to be treated like an adult for once.” 

“What does that even mean?” 

“Treated like I’m eighteen, hell, nineteen in a couple months. Not like I’m a baby. I want to just be treated like everyone else.” 

Max bit her lip, shifting her feet on the sand, the chill already biting deep in her bones. “How am I doing, then? You can tell me, right?” 

“You’re doing fine. It’s just other people.” 

“Other people?” 

“Caregivers, nurses, doctors, distant family members, friends...or at least before they bailed on me.” 

“Have you told them how you feel?” 

“What does it matter?” Chloe snapped, words full of bitterness. “They’ll see me as some infantile invalid not worthy of an intelligent conversation. Everyone just sees me as the poor little disabled girl.” 

“That’s not true--”

“Yes it is! Do you know what it’s like, lying in bed, day in, day out, having no one to talk to who’ll be on your level? To be so bored you think you’ll go mad from the isolation? Or convince yourself all your friends pity you and pretend to care, until they don’t?” 

Max stiffened, “I hope I’m not one of those. Because I  _ do  _ care, Chloe Price. Don’t you dare insinuate that I don’t.” 

“Until you get sick of having to look after me, and bail.” 

Max stepped in front of Chloe’s wheelchair, cupping a hand under Chloe’s chin, so she had to look up at her. 

“I’m here because I want to be, and I enjoy spending time with you. Not because I pity you.” 

“Everyone says that,” Chloe said, tugging her head sharply away from Max’s hand. “And then they leave.” 

“I’m not ‘everyone’, okay? You need to get that through your head. I don’t pity you. Pinky swear, cross my heart, all that bullshit. You are awesome, wheelchair, or not.” 

“How can I be awesome if all I do is just sit in bed or sit at my computer? That’s total bull, Max.” 

“No it’s not.” 

“I’ll never use my skateboard again, or ever go to school because those assholes couldn’t be bothered with a simple ramp. I’ll never dance again, or go clubbing like every teenager out there. I can’t even go swimming. There goes my dreams of ever going diving after sharks or whatever. I’m a useless drain on my parents--they’re bankrupt and it’s all me.” 

“Chloe, none of this is your fault, okay? It’s a shitty draw of your deck of cards, but you’re not alone.” 

“Only when you’re around, and that isn’t even for long, before you run back to Seattle.” 

Max sighed. “I don’t  _ run back _ to Seattle. I have to, for school. I can’t miss  _ that _ , not if I want to get a scholarship for photography school at Blackwell.” 

“And then you’ll have new friends and forget about me.” 

“I could never forget about you, even if I had all the friends in the world. And I send you letters, right? Is that not enough?” 

“No.” 

“I’ll visit more often when I’m here, I swear, okay? Even if I don’t, that isn’t because I bailed on you.” 

“What if--”

“Chloe, I’ll  _ never  _ leave you. Get that through your skull, now.” 

“It’ll happen sooner or later.” 

Max ran a frustrated hand through her hair, wishing she’d brought her own hat with her out here. 

“Look, I don’t know how to say it, but you have to trust me. Haven’t you always trusted me, Chloe?” 

A short, tense silence. “Yeah.” 

“And I’ve always trusted you, Chloe. Really. You’re my best friend for a reason.” 

Silence from Chloe, who looked away from Max, her anger distinct. Max stared back out to sea, folding her arms, hunching her shoulders. 

“Maybe we should go back to your place, Chloe,” Max said after a tension-filled minute or so. “We can talk later, okay?” 

“Sure. Whatever, Max.” 

It was a tension-filled, silent walk back to the Price household, Chloe going straight to her bedroom, leaving Max behind in the hallway, now at a loss for what to do with herself. 

_ Maybe I should go outside for a bit? Nah, I’ve already frozen half my ass off.  _

A glance up at the stairs jolted a reminder out of the depths of her brain. 

_ Chloe’s old room is up there... should I take a look and see what’s changed, if anything? Maybe I could find something in there to cheer her up, or at least make her room look and feel more...her.  _

Max, deciding she had nothing better to do otherwise, began making her way up the staircase toward Chloe’s old bedroom, the one they had hung out in for years and years, the home of many sleepovers, loud chatter, laughter, playing pirates, getting their competition on over board games, and snacking on all the junk food they could. 

_ Pretty sure that gross old jawbreaker has long been thrown in the trash. Thank god.  _

She paused at the top of the stairs, glancing back downstairs over her shoulder, noting the quietness of the house, how it didn’t seem the same as before, filled to the brim with Chloe’s laughter and stomping around in her favourite boots just to annoy her mother. 

_ Those days are long gone.  _

Max let herself pause for a moment in front of the old bedroom’s closed door, her hand brushing against the cool handle. Her toes curled under her socks as a draft spread over her feet from under the door, wrapping around her ankles. 

_ Here goes nothing… _

She pressed down the handle, and yet, courage failed her still. 

_ I have to see. I  _ have  _ to. Just to know. I have to… _

Were all their old childhood memories still there? Maybe Chloe’s parents left the room as it was two years ago, a moment frozen in time, a ghost of a bygone era. Once full and bright with the laughter of Chloe and Max, BFFs to the end of time, now lonely and populated only by spiders scuttling around on the ceilings and building webs Max would no doubt run into as soon as she stepped inside. 

_ Ugh...spiders. Right, Max, just open the door. Count of three. One...two… _

Max pushed down on the door handle, peeking inside as she slowly opened the door into a--

_ Oh my god. It’s so… _

Empty. Empty of memories, now all packed away into boxes left under the windows, the old mattress that had seen a million sleepovers propped up against a wall. Max clung tight to the door handle, opening the door just enough so she could lean up against the doorframe, leaning her head against its wood, just staring at the emptiness of Chloe’s old bedroom. 

_ God...is it worse that everything’s packed away, rather than left as a frozen relic of our childhood? Or is it better this way? _

First the swings, and now this room. The reminders of the golden years of their childhood were slipping away faster and faster the closer she approached adulthood. Was she  _ really  _ going to be twenty, an  _ actual adult _ , in just two and a half years? 

_Chloe’s almost nineteen…_ _how the hell does it feel like both yesterday and a million years ago we were sneaking midnight snacks under the blankets when Joyce wasn’t looking? God we were such rebels. And that was ten years ago._

Of all the things their eight and nine year old selves could have imagined them doing nearly a decade later, Chloe becoming quadriplegic was definitely one of the very last things on the list they could have predicted. 

_ Maybe...maybe I can rescue something in here…  _

Unless, of course, it was all shoved into the attic as well--the Prices were nothing if not sentimental about all their old belongings. 

Max straightened up again, leaning away from the door frame as she stepped into the room, each footstep echoing off the bare floor, little clouds of dust puffing up over her feet. The walls seemed to breathe back at her, as though the very... _ nothingness  _ of their bare wood whispered back at her to clothe them again with Chloe’s personality. 

_ Wait, what’s that?  _

She glanced over her shoulder at a flash of metal leaning on the wall, breath hitching on seeing two crutches leaning side by side, and Max guessed at once they were the ones bought for Chloe on the hopes the doctors were right, and she would walk again. 

_ Oh Chloe....I’d give anything for you to be able to move and feel again. Screw those doctors for getting your hopes up all the time like this. It’s so unfair.  _

Max reached out a hand, curling her fingers around one of the crutches’ cold metal, the sensation bringing to mind cold, clinical hospitals with stressed-out nurses and jaded doctors crowding around a hospital bed shrouded by stiff, white curtains hiding the patient from view--a patient who might be just like Chloe. 

Lifting it up, gaze never wavering from the crutch, Max slowly drew it toward her body until she pressed it against her chest, wrapping her arms around it, eyes closing so she could imagine for just a few moments it was a healthier, more mobile, happier Chloe she was embracing. A Chloe who could hug her back, and  _ feel  _ it too, instead of just sitting or lying there unable to reciprocate, let alone enjoy the warmth and closeness of her own best friend’s embrace. 

_ Unable to touch or feel anything. Like this stupid crutch.  _

Remembering how Chloe’s doctors had kept giving her empty promises about being able to walk again, Max pulled the crutch away from herself, letting it clatter back on the floor next to its equally cold and unfeeling twin. 

_ Stupid doctors. They need to know when to shut up after it’s obvious she’ll never walk again. Probably just preying on her innate good nature and trust, those assholes.  _

Max turned her back on the crutches, pacing over to the boxes, reading their handwritten labels: “toys”, “clothes”, and “shoes”. 

_ All her old things that probably couldn’t fit in the attic upstairs.  _

Max knelt down on the floor next to the boxes, head hanging low as she traced her fingertips over the letters of the box full of toys. 

_ At least her beloved Mr. Sharky didn’t get stuffed inside this thing. I wonder what else is in this box...probably her old childhood toys she’s long grown out of.  _

Max let her eyes wander from the “toys” box, her hand shifting up to rest on top of the box. 

_ Oh, shoes!  _

Deep in her memories came the sound of boots thumping up and down the stairs, Chloe making as much noise as she could, ignoring her mother’s yelling at her to stop, only ceasing the stomping when William finally told her to cut it out already. 

_ Oh man...Chloe could spend hours just in the shoes section alone at the shops. Same. _

Chloe would absolutely get heels with the tallest stilettos humanly possible, just for the heck of it and to see how long she could walk around in them before taking them off to relieve and free her suffering feet. 

_ Tried heels before, nearly broke my goddamn ankle. Chloe was always so much better balanced.  _

Her attention again continued wandering, stopping again at the sight of the mattress propped up against the wall, blocking a little of the sunlight coming through the curtained window next to it. 

_ How many sleepovers has that mattress seen? How many midnight conversations and snacks smuggled into bed?  _

To think that the last time they’d had a proper sleepover, when Max was still in Arcadia Bay, and Chloe wasn’t in a wheelchair, fully able to enjoy her life without restraint, was five years ago. 

_ Now look at us...she’s paralysed and I’m in Seattle, far from her.  _

How different would things be had Max been able to stay? She would so have visited Chloe more often, keeping her company any way she could, without having to resort to simply sending letters and photos of her adventures. 

_ I’m going to get that scholarship, Chloe. I  _ will. 

Max slowly got to her feet, straightening to her full height, hands on hips as she turned on the spot, seeing for the first time how many boxes of packed stuff there really was here. 

_ Is that all of Chloe’s old stuff? Jesus. This is… _

Max didn’t know how much longer she could last in this room, moving to the wall opposite all the boxes, staring at how  _ empty  _ the wooden shelves next to the closet appeared without their precarious piles of saved textbooks and school supplies Chloe insisted on keeping, even if it was all well out of date. She liked to read the textbooks, with their pretty pictures and cool science for her to learn. Now, instead of layers of words, there were simply layers of dust, dust mites, and spiders curled up dead on their backs. Max trailed a finger through a layer of thick, grey dust, drawing a random trail through the dust, wishing she could go back in time and see that old Chloe again, so hopeful and with a whole amazing life ahead of her. The way her eyes sparkled with hope, not bitterness, and how her words sang with carefree hopes, not hoarse with exhaustion and disappointment. 

She spotted a poster that had somehow drifted to the floor below the wooden shelves; picking it up, she examined it, studying the painted portrait of a vivid blue butterfly. 

_ Think I’ve seen this guy before...a Morpho? Chloe was so good at painting…  _

Max replaced it on a shelf, only for another hidden bit of paper to drift out from behind the painting, swinging back and forth through the air in its fall to the ground, only for the girl to catch it mid-flight, turning it over. 

_ Oh my god...it’s one of Chloe’s old letters to me, pretending to be penpals separated by oceans. Weren’t we like eight and nine when we wrote these?  _

Max leaned against the wall, fingers clinging firm on the yellowing paper, slowly taking in every word she could, wrinkling her nose at the bit about loving salty pretzels (not anymore, at least for her), and giggling quietly at the declaration of living together in a house painted entirely in gold, only for her little bit of cheer to dampen at a single sentence: 

_ “We never fail to save each other.”  _

_ What if I could have the day of her accident?  _ Max wondered, leaning her head back, closing her eyes.  _ What if I could have somehow stopped it happening? Would I have tried to were I there? Or would I have frozen? Just stood there like a fucking coward as that asshole rammed into her car?  _

Well, she knew what  _ did  _ happen after the accident. 

_ Should’ve visited her first chance I had, but no, it had to take my parents dragging me to their conference to even do it. What kind of best friend am I? I’d have just ditched her, were it not for my mom and dad.  _

A complex web of emotions burned the back of her throat as she stared at the letter, words full of a close, unbreakable bond they’d once had so long ago. 

_ Was it only five years ago I was last in here? It was so...alive, and now look at it.  _

Her hand convulsed, screwing up the paper in her fist. 

_ Fuck that asshole. She deserved so much more than to be almost killed in a  _ fucking  _ ditch!  _

Pushing herself off the wall, Max tossed the paper back on the shelves, pacing to the door, the emptiness yawning between her and it, walls stark in their bare, white impersonality, wooden floor echoing her footsteps back at her way louder than it really ought to. 

Pulling the door open, Max stepped over the threshold and firmly closed it behind her, never more grateful than ever to see the shelf of unread books in the hallway, or the poster for Arcadia Bay, or the shabby walls that told people  _ someone  _ lived in this house. It was run down and shabby here, but it was still  _ alive _ . Not dead and lifeless and unlived in and…

_ Come on Max, take a breather. You’re here. Chloe’s still alive. Not...like her old room is now.  _

Max recalled her new room, with its snowglobes, HD TV, fluffy animals, framed photographs, computer with its adapted mouth-operated joystick, and…

_ Is that all really her? What would she be like without her paralysis? She’d be so much more punk, right? Would she have posters over posters on her walls? Would she dye her hair all crazy colours like she always wanted to?  _

Hell, maybe they’d even smoke pot together--who the hell knew what would be different. 

_ Everything, probably. Man, what I’d give that Chloe could do everything she wanted to do again. But what if there was a way? She can’t just give up now. I won’t let her. I  _ won’t. 

Max was not going to fail to save her this time. 

It was late in the afternoon before Chloe had cooled enough to start talking ambiably with Max again, like nothing had happened, apologising profusely for the argument at the beach. But Max told her not to worry about it, that Chloe had the right to feel what she felt. 

“Thanks, Saint Max,” was Chloe’s reply in her usual snarky tone, but Max caught the glimmer of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Next you’re gonna tell me you’re hiding wings under that oversized jumper of yours.” 

“Precisely why I wear it,” Max said, pulling her sleeves down over her hands to keep them warm, “That, and sweater paws.” 

“Sorry again, Max, about earlier--”

“Chloe, don’t worry about it, okay?” Max insisted, folding her arms as she sat on the edge of Chloe’s bed. “Feel what you feel.” Max’s eyes wandered to her backpack in the corner. “Hey, you know what could be cool?” 

Chloe moved her wheelchair a little toward Max. “If you moved in here forever? That would be cool.” 

Max got up from the bed, making a beeline for her backpack, rummaging around inside it for her music player, pulling it out with a shake of the entangled headphones. 

“Sharing music on this thing,” Max said, now making her way to the computer. “Or putting podcasts you like on it. Hell, you could  _ make  _ your own, being a science nerd and all.”

“Podcasts?” Chloe echoed like she’d never heard of such a thing before. “Dude, I’m a pod in a cast.” 

“Hey, don’t knock podcasts till you’ve tried ‘em,” Max said, already trying to locate where all of Chloe’s music on her computer were, “Hey, do you have music on this thing?” 

“In the music folder. Why?” 

Max found her music folder, only to find very few audio files on there. “Hey, I thought you liked listening to a lot of music.” 

Chloe scoffed. “Caregivers--they don’t like my music, and my parents are always telling me to turn down my punk stuff.” 

“No reason you can’t listen to it on an mp3 player, right? Just get someone to put in these headphones and they push play and you listen to your heart’s content.” 

“They can always refuse or delete stuff. I mean my caregivers and nurses, not my parents. They’d be cool with it.” 

“Then your caregivers are petty,” Max pouted, annoyed on Chloe’s behalf. “Dude you’re almost  _ nineteen _ , not nine. And anyway, I’m here, right? No way I’m deleting all your music.” 

“You better not, Maxine Caulfield.” 

Max plugged the audio player into the computer, glad there was still enough room to copy all the music Chloe had on her computer onto it. 

“I’ve got another player at home,” Max said as she unplugged it from the computer and pulled up a chair next to Chloe’s wheelchair, making herself comfortable. “You can keep this one if you like. Put some nature podcasts on there or something.” 

“Podcasts are for hipsters.” 

Max grinned, putting in one of the earphones into her ear as she spoke. “Well Chloe, then it’s time I brought out your inner hipster, then, right? You’re bringing out my inner punk rock girl, so it’s only fair.” 

Chloe pouted, affecting a sigh of defeat when Max only laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“Ugh,  _ fine _ . Bring out my inner hipster, then.” 

“ _ Victory _ .” 

“You think. For now.” 

“Music first, bringing out your inner hipster later, agreed?” 

“Yuck. Fine, hippie, if you insist.” 

“Okay, time to share my earwax with you,” Max said as she popped the other earphone into Chloe’s ear. “Ready for some bops?” 

“Music. Now.” 

Max flipped through her player’s music list until she found the latest ones downloaded off Chloe’s computer, and hit play, her ear immediately blasted with punk. She quickly turned down the volume, lest hers or Chloe’s eardrum got busted. 

“Loud enough for you?” Max asked. 

“Perfect.” 

Max rested her hands on her lap, leaning her head on Chloe’s shoulder, closing her eyes to lose herself in the music. She couldn’t help a smile when Chloe leaned her head on hers with a little hum of contentment. There was something intimate about this, sharing earphones and music, and sitting so close their shoulders and arms touched, Chloe warm against her even through Max’s oversized sweater. 

_ Pretty sure we’ve listened to music like this as kids too, on her mattress upstairs.  _

Keeping her eyes closed, her body still, ignoring the feel of the wheelchair against her, Max could almost imagine they really were back in those nostalgic times, lying back on Chloe’s bed in the summer sun pouring through the window, listening to Disney songs tinkling through shared earbuds. 

_ Man, those days were great…  _

Eventually, the music came to a finish, and Max opened her eyes, coming back to the real world, where they were in their mid-late teens and not childhood, and where Max could come and go as she pleased, and Chloe was locked in her own body. 

_ Shit, Max, stop feeling sorry for her okay? You know she hates that.  _

“You dig that?” Max asked as she gently removed the earbud from Chloe’s ear, before taking her own out as well. “How was it?” 

“Thanks, Max. That was amazing.” 

“Thought you’d like that. So...ready for some podcasts?” 

Chloe yawned, looking sleepy already. “Maybe later, dude. Sorry, I’m always so tired. Boring.” 

“Chloe, you’re  _ not  _ boring. I’m here for you no matter what. Do you want help into your bed?” 

“Don’t try on your own.” 

_ Maybe I should start not skimping out on the gym and start going. Then I’ll be big and burly enough to help Chloe into her bed without that lifter. Yeah right, dream on, Maxine.  _

It was amazing how fast afternoon faded into night-time, and before Max knew it, it was well past dinnertime, after which Chloe was readied for and put in bed, a couple lamps giving her room a soft, sleepy glow. The make-up had been washed from Chloe’s face by one of the cheery caregivers who had come in to help, and Max tried to ignore her heart sinking as she saw once again how much paler and wearier her face had become since she’d seen her last year. 

Nevertheless, Chloe was as chirpy as before, and Max had a suspicion that this was the happiest she ever got, when she was right here with her, and not just sending her letters from a state away. At least the caregivers seemed to be the nicer ones who managed to get a laugh out of Chloe from what Max had heard while waiting outside her bedroom door. 

_ They sounded kinda cool, actually. At least there’s a couple who treat Chloe like a grown adult. No baby-talking or monotone clinical talk. Or silence.  _

No sooner had the caregivers shut the front door behind them, and the Price parents left them be, Max had perched herself on the chair next to Chloe’s bed, a hand resting casually on the latter’s arm under the blanket. 

“Sounds like those two were actually pretty decent,” Max commented, “They a couple or something?” 

“Actually, yeah,” Chloe confirmed, “The one with the green-dyed pixie haircut? They’re always banging on about fossils. They always tells me she’s gonna ditch caregiving and go into astronomy to become an astronaut once they find fossils on Mars.” 

“Mars?” Max raised an eyebrow. “Thought that planet was like dead.” 

“Maybe. Probably will be microbe fossils at best on that planet though. Don’t want to tell them that, hate to disappoint such a pretty face.” 

Max shot a teasing grin at her. “Crushing hard aren’t we?” 

A blush betrayed Chloe’s otherwise fervent denying shake of her head. 

“Gotcha.” 

“Go back to Seattle, Max. Now.” 

“And the other caregiver?” Max pressed. “What’s he like?” 

“Pretty ace, to be honest. Wanted to be a fighter pilot, but then discovered caregiving and didn’t look back.” 

“That’s--that’s quite a career change, isn’t it?” 

“Weirder career changes have happened, I’m sure, Max.” 

“Thought about that podcast thing again?” Max asked. 

“Maybe tomorrow.” 

“First thing. Or you’re gonna keep saying maybe tomorrow.” 

“See how I feel in the morning, boss.” 

“I’m not  _ bossy _ .” 

“No, but you’re nosey and a good kisser,” Chloe’s eyes glittered as she gazed at Max, “One more snog before bed?” 

Max folded her arms, slouching back in her chair, pretending to be all airy. “Oh, you get one kiss and now you’re all over me?” 

“Damn right I am.” 

Max exaggerated a sigh and got to her feet, but she couldn’t help another thump of her heart as her eyes locked on Chloe’s lips--so soft and pale, and still so kissable even without the make-up. 

“If you insist.” 

Chloe winked up at her. “I fucking insist.” 

“Moving fast there, aren’t we, Chloe? And how would it work when you can’t feel--I mean touch--no, move--shit, I mean--”

_ Good job, Maxine Caulfield. Way to put both damn feet in your mouth. That takes some talent. You should join a circus.  _

“Shit, that was not cool of me--sorry--” 

“When there’s a will, there’s a way, as they say,” Chloe said, seemingly unbothered by Max’s slip of the tongue. “Paralysis doesn’t mean the ol’ hormones don’t stop either, catch my drift?” 

Max could feel her whole face warming. “Y-yeah. That was a stupid thing to say.” 

“Nah, totally normal. I’d probably wonder the same thing in your place.” 

“Uh, okay,” Max stammered, wishing she could just rewind the last twenty or thirty seconds. “So...kiss time?” 

“I’m getting impatient, Max.” 

Max carefully settled herself on the side of the bed, avoiding accidentally sitting on Chloe’s hand--and thus the drip--under her sheets. Leaning forward, she reached to take Chloe’s face in her palms, marvelling again at how warm she felt to the touch. She let her gaze linger on Chloe’s lips as the latter’s eyes drooped shut with pleasure, a smile lilting at the corners of her mouth. She shifted up a little closer to lean in close to Chloe, thumbs stroking along her cheekbones, touching her forehead against hers, the tips of their noses touching. A thrill of goosebumps leaped up on Max’s arms as Chloe’s machine-assisted exhalation puffed from parted lips to touch her own. 

“Where’s the kiss, you tease?” 

“Right here,” Max breathed, words hardly more than a sigh before she shifted her head just enough so the side of her nose brushed against Chloe’s, their lips touching in a warm, lingering kiss, lasting several seconds before Max pulled back just enough to whisper again to her. 

“How’s it?” 

“Don’t stop. Don’t you dare…” 

Fingers curling up to take little strands of Chloe’s hair between them, Max parted her lips, deepening the kiss, flicking her tongue under Chloe’s upper lip, taking it between her own, giving it a little seductive nip and tug with the lightest of touches with her teeth. Chloe’s shuddering murmur at that encouraged her to deepen the kiss again, slipping her tongue into her mouth, running it over her upper teeth with a little teasing moan of her own, fingers sliding down to stroke the nape of her neck, hoping Chloe could feel the sensation. A gasp when she hit a sensitive spot assured her she could, and she tucked her hands under Chloe’s head, holding it still as she let Chloe explore her own mouth with her tongue, more shy and a tadge more uncertain than Max’s, but it still thrilled all the same. Shifting a little on the bed, Max lowered down a little, so the space between herself and Chloe closed even more, Max’s fingers scratching gently at the back of Chloe’s head and tickling at the base of her neck, now that she had found a sensitive spot. Her heart raced in her chest, lungs starting to cry out for fresh air, as she lost herself in the kiss. 

When Max finally pulled out of the kiss, albeit with great reluctance, to get more air, Chloe moved her head toward her a little too fast, so noses bumped and smooshed up against each other, and Max pulled back again, opening the space between them, quickly wiping the corner of her mouth with a finger, breathless, entire body ringing with the passion of their make-out,  _ far  _ too aware of how close her chest was to Chloe’s. She gazed into Chloe’s eyes, noting her pupils large with desire, and the way a flush had risen into her cheeks. Was it just her, or did her cheeks feel even warmer under Max’s palms, and her lips more plump and redder? 

“Damn, Max,” Chloe sounded out of breath, “That was…” 

“Amazing?” 

“I could do that all night.” 

Now that she’d caught her breath again, Max leaned in once again to deliver soft kisses along Chloe’s closed lips, slipping the tip of her tongue between them in slow, languorous, teasing alternations with the kisses. 

“See?” Max whispered, pressing a kiss under Chloe’s bottom lip, brushing her lips over her chin. “You…” she pressed fluttering butterfly kisses along her jaw. “Can feel…” she nipped firm, yet gentle, at Chloe’s earlobe, tugging at it with her teeth, heart fluttering at the low moan of pleasure from the blonde. “Still.” Max brushed parted lips over the shell of her ear, hearing the softest of whimpers from Chloe.

“Feels good, huh?” Max whispered, letting her teeth drag and nip along her ear, tugging again at her earlobe, feeling a tingle of arousal at Chloe’s staggered sighs and murmurs not to stop. 

“Chloe…” Max breathed against the underside of her jaw, parted lips pressing kisses along the jawline, trailing her little ministrations up to Chloe’s own lips, parted and ready for another deep kiss, not as long as their last one, but passionate all the same, Max’s fingers slipping to trace and tickle up and down the curve of Chloe’s neck, ignoring the feel of the medical tape as she passed fingertips back and forth over sensitive skin. Only when Chloe pressed her head back insistently on Max’s hands and the pillow, did she end the kiss.

“That’s...I’ll sleep well…” Chloe whispered, Max pulling back and looking at her, seeing her eyes had closed. “Stay close...a little longer?” 

Max stayed close to Chloe, stroking her face with one hand, stilling when Chloe leaned her head into her palm, a brief kiss tickling the skin there, Max’s fingers twitching a little at the thrill it sent through her arm. She carefully moved her hand upward, so Chloe’s lips brushed over the thin, sensitive skin of her wrist, making her breath catch in her throat. 

“Chloe, that’s--a perfect spot to kiss--” 

Max closed her eyes as Chloe pressed her lips against her wrist, followed by a flock of butterfly kisses migrating back up to her palm, stilling over her lifeline, a shuddering exhalation telling Chloe of the blissful pleasure it was giving her. Chloe’s warm breath lingered on her palm, followed by a few more gentle kisses against Max’s palm, following back down to her wrist before turning her head away to gaze up at Max.

“Sorry...can’t go on longer…” 

Max brushed her thumb over Chloe’s cheekbone. “That’s okay, Chloe. It was amazing as it is, right?” 

Chloe smiled, eye closing, clearly very drowsy. “You didn’t disappoint.”

“Glad to hear it,” Max murmured, giving her one last tender kiss on her temple before quietly getting up to get ready for bed herself. 

Sometime deep in the early hours of night, Max found herself dreaming of diving through deep blue water that seemed to stretch on forever down into the blackness below, hiding the seafloor from the sight of all but the deepest divers. She didn’t find it weird that she could breathe underwater, nor that she was not wearing diving gear, considering the depth she was at, judging by the watery sky high over her head. 

_ I need to find Triton and his ammonites.  _

Nor did she question who the hell Triton was. 

Max swam through the water at high speed, far faster than any human alive, diving deeper into the calm blue, not worried about passing sharks that might decide she was tasty enough for a chase. 

And then--there they were, a whole wall of ammonites swirling around her like a living tornado. Their shells were tight coils, each with a thin line following the spiral from the centre outwards, terminating at a red “X”. Max stilled in the water, reaching out to try and catch one of the rapidly swirling molluscs, and she tried again and again until at last, she caught one between her hands. 

_ The...hell?  _

The vortex, which had been going in a clockwise direction, now began turning, rapid and frenetic, the other way, shell-first, not headfirst, as would be expected of these curious little molluscs. Max held the ammonite in her hand up to her eyes, and found the line receding and receding back from the red “X”, a grey line shortening as it shrank back to the centre of the shell, a headache pounding in Max’s cranium until blotchy red began filling her vision. 

_ Ughhh… _

Her ears were beginning to thrum, head throbbing, eyes shutting tight from the pain, letting her hand open so that the ammonite drifted away--

And suddenly, the headache was gone, the blotchy red in her vision was gone, and the tornado of ammonites swirled around her in a clockwise direction once again. 

_ Will it happen if I do it again? Hopefully no fucking headache this time.  _

Reaching out again, she snagged another hapless ammonite, and once again, they began to swim at speed anticlockwise about her, the grey spirals on their shells receding faster and faster from the red “X”s. When the grey spirals could no longer recede anymore, having reached the centre of the shells, another flash of red passed through her peripheral vision, and Max let go of the ammonite lest the headache returned. Once more, everyone resumed their clockwise swimming, only now some weird alarm-sounding noise was piercing into the dream’s ambience like it came from outside this curious world of circling ammonites. 

Max awoke with a jolt, just as the alarm stopped sounding. She blinked in the dark, squinting around at Chloe, only to see someone with a torch, bending over the ventilator machine as if checking it for something. 

“All good now, Chloe,” the figure--William, it turned out--said, “Goddamn tubing popped off again.” 

Max sat up, thoughts of ammonites pushed to the back of her head for now. 

“Chloe? Are you okay?” she asked, voice croaky with sleep. 

“Yeah Max,” came the sleepy reply. “It’s good now.” 

“Shitty piece of tubing,” grumbled William, “Gotta get that looked at.” 

“That’s a dollar for the swear jar, dad…” Chloe commented, sounding like she was more than ready to drift back to sleep. 

“I know, sweetie,” William said, now aiming his torch at the door, “It’s okay now, Max, we got this.” 

“Oh good,” Max mumbled, flopping back on the pillows, “Now I can find out who this Triton is…” 

When she awoke the next morning, it was to a torrential downpour hammering on the roof and splatting against the windowpanes. Instinctively, Max grabbed her blanket and pulled it around her shoulders as she got to her feet, shuffling over to sit on the chair at Chloe’s bedside. Chloe’s head was turned away from Max on the pillow, and she wasn’t sure if she was still asleep.

“Chloe?” she whispered, “You awake yet?” 

Chloe slowly turned her head in Max’s direction, eyes still closed. 

“Now I am.” 

“Weird dream last night,” Max said, “You ever dream?” 

“Nah,” Chloe mumbled, “Hey get me some water.” 

Max poured fresh water from the bedside jug into a plastic cup with a straw, before walking back to help Chloe drink from it, blue eyes opening to gaze up at her face.

“Thanks, Max.” 

Putting the cup back on a dresser, Max settled herself in the chair, stretching her legs out before her. Chloe looked so peaceful just lying there, like nothing was wrong, like everything was okay; if it weren’t for the IV line in her arm and the ventilator going into her throat, and the unsettling stillness of her body under the blankets, Max felt she could almost forget her friend was completely paralysed. 

Friend--if they could still be called that after yesterday’s two make-out sessions, the second a hell of a lot more heated than the first. 

“That kiss, huh?” Max piped up, something pulsing quickly deep in her at the fresh memories of Chloe’s lips on hers, the little aroused noises she’d made, encouraging Max on. 

A wide grin crossed Chloe’s face, eyes opening fully, pupils dilating. “Best way to end a day, huh?” 

“I think this puts us into girlfriends level, Chloe. No way  _ that  _ was platonic.” 

“Nah, just gals being pals, dude.” 

Max snorted, laughed, stopping abruptly with a cringe when it came out more as a croak. 

_ Ugh. Hate my laugh before coffee.  _

“You’re right, Chloe. Just gals being pals. Because friends make out with friends all the time, amirite.” 

“All the time.” 

“Spin the bottle. Too many drinks.” 

Chloe’s smile faded, laughter falling silent, much to Max’s disconsertation. 

“Chloe?” 

“You’ve...you’ve kissed someone before, right?” 

“Well...yeah, I have. Does that bother you?” 

“What? No, no, not at all,” Chloe assured a little too quickly. “I’m glad, really. Would’ve been...more awkward, I guess, if you hadn’t.” She flashed Max a big grin, clearly trying to assure her. 

“You’re not jealous, right?” Max asked, seeing right through Chloe. “I know when you’re hiding your real feelings.” 

“I’m not hiding.” 

“Chloe, I’ve known you for like how many years now?” Max didn’t bother to stop and try to do the math before coffee and ten minutes after waking. “And really, no need to be jealous. Not that big a deal.” 

“I’ve--never kissed anyone before.”

“Well now you have, haven’t you?” 

Chloe’s eyes softened, a dreamier look melting the jealousy away from the corners of her mouth, the tilt of her eyebrows. 

“The best first kiss I could’ve hoped for.” 

“Glad to hear it. Believe me, my first kiss ever was crap.” 

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Really? Do tell.” 

“Braces and noses and...pain, more than lips meeting. Let’s leave it at that.” 

Chloe winced in sympathy. “Ouch.” 

“So, your first kiss could’ve been  _ way  _ worse, like mine. Seriously. Boys have no control.” 

“Sounds like you’ve sworn off them?” 

Did Max imagine a note of hopefulness in Chloe’s voice? 

“Sloppy kissers? Yeah. Pretty much.” 

“Hope I wasn’t too sloppy for you.” 

Max moved the chair closer to the bed, close enough that she could brush her fingers through Chloe’s hair, giving her a soft kiss on her temple. The soft, warm exhalation from Chloe melted on her neck, sending little tingles up and down her skin. She drew back from Chloe, stilling at seeing how close their faces were to each other. 

“Not at all, Chloe. Not in the least.” 

“Thanks.” 

Max let her fingers trail through Chloe’s hair, brushing her palm over her cheek before letting her hand fall back on the blanket covering her shoulder. Something had definitely changed between them, a something that ran far deeper and more intimate than being “just” best friends. 

“Sorry my alarm woke you up--stupid tubing for this thing,” Chloe nodded down at herself, “Occasionally pops off the machine or this trach. Don’t worry, it’s usually fine. Good thing my dad’s so practical, huh.” 

“Yeah,” Max agreed, thinking about how William had done an incredible job on painting the outside of the house that brilliant blue. 

_ Chloe’s favourite shade of blue.  _

“At least this trach hasn’t popped out. Yet. Good thing this medical tape’s strong.” 

Max’s eyes flicked down to the trach sticking out of Chloe’s throat. 

“How do they…” 

“Just slice a hole in my neck and stick it in there.” 

Max was glad she wasn’t drinking or eating anything, or she might have choked in her shock. 

_ “What? _ They--I mean you have--”

“A fucking hole in my neck. So sexy.” Chloe pulled a face. “Has to be cleaned at least a couple times a day. Gross.” 

“I think my parents had a friend who needed that because he smoked too much. Had the trach thing and hole in his throat and everything. Freaked me out, but then I was like five or six.” 

“You’re totally freaked out right now too.” 

Max wasn’t going to lie. “Yeah, kinda. But I’ll get over it. But if anything convinced me never to smoke tobacco...it was that.” 

“Can’t blame you, Max.” A beat of silence passed. “I...can we change the subject?” 

Max hoped her relief wasn’t too obvious on her face. 

“Uh yeah--ammonites! I dreamed about ammonites!” 

_ I don’t think your discomfort is obvious enough, Maxine. It’s a little  _ too  _ subtle right now.  _

Chloe either didn’t notice or pretended not to, to save Max from further embarrassment. 

“Ooh, lucky. What happened?” 

“And I had to find someone named Triton for some reason.” 

“What, like King Triton? As in  _ The Little Mermaid _ ?” 

“Huh?” Max blinked, taking a second to recall the movie. “Oh...yeah. Maybe him.” 

“Sooo, tell me about your ammonites.” 

“It was really...weird.” 

“Dreams usually are, Max.” 

After Max had relayed what she could remember of the dream, Chloe was smiling. 

“That...is pretty weird, but kinda cool. If only I could touch an ammonite and be transported to the Permian.” Chloe coughed, several seconds passing as the ventilator gave her a fresh inhalation of oxygen. “Where’s breakfast?” 

“I doubt Joyce is cooking ammonite pancakes for breakfast.” 

“Would be really crunchy and probably kinda stale.” 

“How stale?” 

“At least two hundred fifty million years stale. Sandy too. Hey, what do beaches eat?” 

Max rolled her eyes, sensing a Price Pun coming. 

“What, pray, do beaches eat?”

“Sandwiches. Geddit?” 

“I’m busting all my ribs laughing, Chloe,” Max stood up, the smell of breakfast in the kitchen calling to her. “For  _ that _ , I’m gonna get Joyce to put all your bacon on my plate, leaving you with none.” 

Chloe made a noise of protest. “Hey!” 

Max grinned. “That’s what you get for that thing you call a pun.” 

“Screw you, Max.” 

“I’d love to, Chloe, but I must hunt down breakfast. My stomach can’t hold out much longer.” 

Breakfast passed in a cheery dash of laughter and idle chit-chat between Max, one of the caregivers from last night, and Chloe. This caregiver was still just as cool--perhaps even more so than last night--chatting along and talking about their interests with an animation that made them seem so much younger than whatever age they actually were. 

_ Much as Chloe complains about her caregivers and nurses...surely she can see not all are bad. Like this one.  _

“Your doctors sound useless,” this caregiver was quipping now, “After two years and they don’t cotton on that platitudes about keeping optimistic won’t miraculously make you walk again? Astonishing!” 

_ Yep. Definitely on Team Chloe.  _

Max’s eyes flicked to the framed “Faith” drawing with the three angels against a background of stars. 

“Chloe, who gave you that Faith drawing?” 

“Huh?” Chloe mumbled through her mouthful of food, turning to see what Max was talking about. “Oh, that.” She swallowed. “From a family at some church far from here. Somehow found out about my accident. Their daughter made that for me. And that ‘Be Brave’ card on the shelf above my head.” 

Max smiled, eyes roving up to the ‘be brave’ card high above Chloe’s head. “That’s cute. So did they say who they were?” 

“Ugh, can’t really remember anymore. Think their daughter was named Kate or Lynn. Or it was Katelyn.” Chloe paused, frowning a little. “Or maybe it was two daughters.” A long interruption as the caregiver fed her another forkful of food, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “Wait...pretty sure last name was Marsh.” 

“They send you anything else?” 

“Nah. Just that.” 

“Still. That’s cool they thought to give you some cheer, right?” 

Chloe nodded, distracted by a final forkful of food. “Right.” 

_ Wonder what this Marsh girl is like.  _

“Dude, can’t believe this is your last day with me,” Chloe continued, “You’re going back to Seattle tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah. But I’ll be back, once I get that photography scholarship.” 

Chloe grinned round at Max. “You’re  _ so  _ gonna get that scholarship.” 

“Once I figure out which photos to pick out for them.” Max nodded at her bag in the corner. “Got some in there that are still waiting for Judgement Day, though thanks to you, I’m closer to finding  _ the  _ ones.” 

“You have to pick  _ something  _ at some point, Max.” 

“I know,” Max said as the caregiver removed the dishes, disappearing from the room, “I have a couple months to decide.” 

“Decide soon. Someone might get there before you.” 

_ She’s not wrong.  _

“I better move my ass then, huh.” 

“Damn right you better, Max Caulfield.” 

While Chloe was readied for the day in her bathroom, Max decided to while the time away on Chloe’s computer, trying to find something to end the day on a high note before she had to leave for Seattle early the next morning. 

_ Wonder if there’s any punk rock concerts streaming that we can listen to together. I think I remember what bands she likes.  _

As if Google had heard her prayer, it immediately came up with a concert streaming online the very same night. The link led to a homepage with a giant countdown app at the top counting down the hours and minutes until the stream would hit the internet worldwide. Even better, this was one of Chloe’s favourite bands, and it would be the perfect way to round off the day together. 

_ Has she ever listened to a streamed concert? Sure, it’s nowhere near as fun as actually being  _ there  _ there, but come on. You can totally rock out at home too. That’s why the internet exists: so we can bop to kickass tunes half a world away.  _

Leaving the tab open, Max opened a new one. 

_ There’s millions of podcasts out there, and some  _ have  _ to be science. Aaand, there we go. Thanks, Doctor Google.  _

She clicked into a couple of good-looking ones including one related to astronomy, and another one that looked right into physics. 

_ Haven’t listened to those, but hope they’re good.  _

Speaking of podcasts--

_ I know Chloe loves to share her nature nerdiness when she can. She did that  _ all  _ the time when we were younger. That marine biology phase she had was awesome. Bet she could get back into that again.  _

On the other hand… 

_ Shit. I hope she’s not depressed. Like actually depressed. As in loss of interest in things you loved depressed.  _

The bathroom door creaking open just a tadge jerked her out of her thoughts. 

“Hey, Max?” the caregiver called through. 

“Yeah?” 

“We’re gonna kick you out for a bit, that okay?” 

Max left the tab with the concert visible on the desktop. 

“Sure thing. I’ll disappear until Chloe’s ready.” 

_ I’m not going to let her feel sorry for herself. No more. She wouldn’t let  _ me  _ feel sorry for myself, and there’s no way I’ll let her either.  _

“Hey Max, what’s this?” 

Chloe, fully dressed and sitting in her wheelchair now, had spotted the open tab with the concert that was going to stream tonight. 

“Thought it would be a fun way to end our day together, right?” Max said, seating herself next to Chloe. “We’re gonna need candy and soda for tonight, it’s the only way to enjoy a streamed concert from the comfort of your own home, right?” 

“I’d prefer a beer or two, but yeah.” 

Max flashed a devilish grin. “Wellll, I could always sneak one in.”

Chloe burst into laughter. “Sure, like my parents will appreciate you doing that. I’m hooked on morphine as it is.” 

“You into any kinds of soda?” 

“Coca-cola. Don’t think I’ve had that in forever.” 

“Noted. Candy?” 

“If it doesn’t have chocolate in it, it doesn’t count.” 

“Duly noted. Reeses? Hersheys?” 

“Don’t really care either way.” 

“And we so need to put punk-inspired make-up on you again.” 

“Punk-inspired?” 

“Who goes to a concert without make-up? Doofuses.” 

Chloe cocked an eyebrow at her. “Only doofuses say doofus.” 

“Joke’s on you, Chloe. You can be the bigger doofus.” 

“Not true!” 

“Sooo, concert tonight, Chloe. Curtains closed and lights off and it’ll be like we’re right there.” 

Chloe’s smile faded a little. “Almost.” 

“Don’t be like that, Chloe, okay?” Max said firmly. “I’m gonna see that you enjoy yourself, and that we have all the fun we can tonight. And it’s your favourite, so that’s gonna be even better. We’re gonna be rockin’ out so hard there’ll be no time to think about anything else.” 

“Rockin’ hard in more ways than one?” 

“Totally. I’ll be grindin’ all up against you in the middle of Act One,” Max quipped, throwing Chloe a cheeky wink. “Happens all the time.” 

“I’ll hold your word to it.” 

Chloe navigated away from the concert tab and to the tab with the podcasts. 

“A physics podcast huh?” 

“I just wanted to see if there were podcasts you might like. Just in case you were looking for any more. I know how much you love science.” 

“Max, I already listened to this one, but found it crap. The astronomy one’s good though. But thanks, anyway.” 

A pause passed between them, before Max nodded at the podcast tab. 

“You know, you can always create your own. I know how much you loved telling me all about science when we were younger.” 

“Those days--”

“Are  _ not  _ long gone.” 

Max’s response was so firm, so no-nonsense that Chloe faltered, staring at her for a time before responding in an almost admiring tone. 

“You’re really determined about this.” 

“Listen, Chloe, I get that it sucks that you’re like this day in and out, but there  _ has  _ to be a way to help you make the most of whatever--whatever time is left, right?” 

“What’s the use?” Chloe’s tone was hardening, a frown tugging at her mouth.

“People love listening to people enthusiastic about their knowledge.” 

“Only you.” 

“Hey, an audience of one is better than none, right? Otherwise you’re just talking to yourself.” 

“I’ll have no one here to help anyway.” 

“Your parents! And that caregiver who came in this morning--I’m sure they’d jump at any chance to help you, right?” 

“They’re always busy and…” 

“It’s probably pretty easy to upload a podcast somewhere, right?” 

“People will hear my voice.” 

“You’ve got an amazing voice--and people don’t usually care what you sound like, long as they understand what you’re saying.” 

“What would I even talk about?” 

“Uh, you tell me, because I’m not the science nerd here. That’s you.” 

Chloe sighed, rested her head back, staring at a spot above the computer. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“Doesn’t have to be complex quantum physics and organic chemistry.” 

“Ugh. I love chemistry except... _ that. _ ” 

“Organic chemistry’s out of the picture then.” 

“A walk through the periodic table? Everyone knows what that is.” 

Max laughed. “At least one person in this room doesn’t know.” She pointed at herself. 

“What?” Chloe stared at her. “You don’t know what it is?” 

Max sat back in her chair, shaking her head. “Not a clue.” 

“Really?” 

“Swear to dog. And cats.” 

Chloe gave her a small smile. “If you’re going to listen to all my shit on chemistry…” 

“Starting with the periodic table. Aren’t there like a thousand elements on there?” 

“More like a hundred something.” 

“If I’m the only one listening to you all excited about Hydrogen or Carbon or Titanium or whatever, then that’s enough, isn’t it?” 

“If it’s  _ you _ that is.” 

“Come on, we can always give it a try, right? Let’s start slow. Starting with what the fuck even is the “Periodic table”, and the first two elements. Hydrogen and Helium. You ever breathed in helium?” 

Chloe shot her an odd look. “Are you telling me--” she stared as Max’s face broke into a grin. “Oh my god, Max.” 

“It’s  _ weird _ . Your voice gets all like high and squeaky and shit. Like a human mouse or something.” 

“ _ Damn _ . That’s ballsy.” 

“Come on, I know you’ve always wanted to try that. I remember you wanting to try it with one of the helium balloons on your eleventh.” 

“My parents were looking.” 

“You’d have totally done it. Come on, Chloe.” 

“Alright, alright,  _ fine _ , you win, Max. I would totally have done that.” 

“So, podcast then?” 

“If it’s just going to be you listening...okay. I’ll give it a go, Max.” 

Max gave her a little peck on the cheek. “Let’s do it, then.” 

Turned out, the podcast was a lot easier to experiment with than either Chloe or Max had thought. The first few times were definitely experimental, a kind of warming up to the idea, before they finally trialed the first few minutes, saving the audio file in a new folder on the desktop. When they listened, Chloe’s face turned from one of uncertainty to relief to genuine happiness. 

“See? Not that bad after all, is it?” 

“Not with you around it isn’t.” 

“I think you honestly could get used to this, Chloe,” Max said, hoping she sounded encouraging enough, “You’re talking about something you love, right? And put it up somewhere wherever people put up podcasts.” 

“Well...you know what. I’ll try. For you.” 

Max laid her hand on Chloe’s. “That’s my Chloe.” 

_ I hope she keeps this up. She’s actually pretty good. Gotta get my friends to listen, if they’re even interested.  _

It wasn’t like Kristin and Fernando went out of their way to learn anything science, but Elaine  _ could  _ listen--at least it was better than her  _ Chicken Soup  _ books--and Esther would definitely be up for an earful of facts about the world around them. 

_ We’ve got this, Chloe. We can do this together.  _

The rest of the day passed by in surprisingly quick fashion, and it wasn’t until the sun was down and dusk was setting in that Max realised she had yet to get the candy and soda promised. At least it wasn’t a far walk to the nearest dairy, where she could stock up on soda and chocolate, bringing the booty back to Captain Chloe’s room, setting it out on the desk near the computer, ready for their night of concert streaming, snacking, and singing along with the music. 

_ I want us to have the best time we can.  _

She could see Chloe was getting more excited the closer the hour came, so much that she could barely finish her share of dinner--it probably didn’t help she was chatting so much at Max--who was helping her eat--that the food grew cold on the plate. 

“Damn, Chloe, you chat more than you eat.” 

“That’s because I have  _ you  _ around--don’t really have anyone else visit me except you. And that’s once a year.” 

“Well, after I get that scholarship, that’ll change, won’t it?” 

“It better, Maxine.” 

“Max, never Maxine. You know that.” 

“I know, I know. Just making sure you heard me.” 

Max carefully feeds her a forkful of mash potato. “I heard you, don’t worry. I swear, I’ll come back.” 

“With that awesome photography scholarship. You got this, Max. I believe in you.” 

“No reason I shouldn’t believe in my own talents, right? And  _ you _ , Chloe Price, you better start believing in yours. Like the podcast episode we did today. You should’ve seen the way your eyes lit up. Dude, you were  _ amazing _ .” 

“Only to you.” 

Max shook her head. “No, that’s not true. Your caregivers this morning? The same ones who came last night? They like you for who you are, as do your parents. Bet they’d love to hear you tell the world how awesome chemistry is.” 

Dinner done, Max cleared away the dishes, including her own, taking them out to the kitchen, now more than ready for a night of punk rock. She fancied she was even starting to kind of  _ like  _ the punk rock genre--she should go look up some good artists when she returned to Seattle. Her parents would  _ hate  _ the music, which was more reason to blast her favourite tunes to high heaven back home, not that she already didn’t. 

Finally, the hour of the stream came, Max quickly setting out the snacks in a reachable place where she didn’t have to lean over all the time, and opened a can of coca-cola, inserting a straw in it for Chloe. Glancing over at Chloe, even with just the glow of the computer for light, she could tell by the spark in her eyes and the joy in her smile that she was more than brimming over with excitement for tonight. 

_ I wish she felt this way all the time.  _

It was almost enough to make Max wish she could just  _ not  _ have to go to Seattle tomorrow, having to wait who knew how long before she could return to Arcadia Bay. Knowing Chloe had no other visitors kind of stung her a little too--Chloe deserved to have company, as long as it was the kind of company that loved her for  _ her _ , and not just to “look after her” and make themselves feel good for having done a “good deed for the day”. 

_ I don’t feel like I’m looking after her at all. It’s more like we’re just...hanging out.  _

Max settled in next to Chloe, resting her head on her shoulder, eyes glued to the screen as the stream finally started playing live from the other side of the world. It was trippy to think that it was daylight over where the concert was, and already deep in darkness over here. 

_ Time zones are even weirder to think about high. And thinking about how seasons being opposites between the northern and southern hemispheres…  _

“Max?” 

“Need a drink?” 

Chloe rested her head on Max’s. “Not yet. It’s just...I think this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Just hanging out with you like this, like nothing’s changed.” 

Max smiled, one of her hands coming up to rest on Chloe’s. “I know. And this concert is gonna be so kickass.” 

Loud applause and screams of happiness and unrestrained excitement barrelled into the speakers, the cameras swooning and swirling over the giant audience spread out on the lawn, before panning with a sort of frenetic energy and fever over the stage full of musical instruments, boom boxes, and snazzy-looking electric guitars. 

“Yes!” Chloe’s whoop of excitement was so unexpected it made Max start. “Max, this is going to be so cool!” 

Max couldn’t help but laugh, Chloe’s jubilance so infectious and... _ full  _ that in that one moment she could easily imagine a healthier, fully mobile Chloe jumping up and already dancing like she was deep in the mosh pit. 

“Ready for the mosh pit, I take it?” Max commented. 

“You better believe it. You  _ better _ .” 

And in that one moment, Max could believe that Chloe was going to be okay, that she would push on, that she would fight against the doctors’ grim prognosis of her impending death from respiratory failure. 

_ We’re gonna make it, you and I, Chloe. Watch out world, here we come.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, you made it to the end? Wowsers! *high fives you because this was a long-ass chapter to read and I think it's awesome you read all the way to the end*
> 
> Other quick notes:
> 
> \--The bit with Chloe looking blissful when Max puts on her make-up was inspired by my experience in theatre at high-school when I had a girl I might've crushed on a little put on some moisturiser on my face before going onstage. Let's just say #gaypanic (unfortunately my highschool was VERY religious (Catholic) and so I didn't identify as queer until at least my mid-twenties (26, I think). Anyway, hindsight is 20/20 as they say, and...yeah. Pretty sure my expression that evening before the performance was not something most straight girls would've had. 
> 
> \--No one can feel a 1.5 magnitude earthquake (in reference to blurry photos Max was worried about at the start of the chapter.) Apologies to sentient seismometers reading this fic--I was aiming this at humans ;) 
> 
> \--It's a personal headcanon of mine that the "Faith" drawing in alt!Chloe's room was from Kate Marsh and her family when her church found out (somehow) about Chloe's accident and consequent paralysis. I have...plans...for alt!Max around Kate Marsh. Make of that (ominous ellipsis and all) what you will.


End file.
